


Into the Light: The Leader

by Charity_Angel



Series: The Need for Communication [7]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Apocalypse, M/M, season 5
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-16
Updated: 2016-02-16
Packaged: 2018-05-15 20:37:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 34,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5799121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Charity_Angel/pseuds/Charity_Angel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Gabriel teams up with Team Free Will, remembers about the key to the Cage, and defeating Lucifer suddenly seems like a sure thing. But when Real Life throws a curveball at Sam, can his relationship with Gabriel survive? And when are things ever so simple as all that?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Famine

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to my beta-reader, the wonderful and gorgeous [Rayvynheart](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Rayvynheart/pseuds/Rayvynheart), who isn't a Sabriel fan but was sweet enough to offer anyway. Any remaining errors are likely because I have tweaked things afterwards (when she was away at JaxCon, lucky devil).
> 
> [The artwork](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6023155) has been done by [@nintendostrickster](http://nintendostrickster.tumblr.com/)/[buttsp8jr](http://archiveofourown.org/users/buttsp8jr/pseuds/buttsp8jr). Check out their[art tag](http://nintendostrickster.tumblr.com/tagged/official%20art) or their [new blog](http://tricksterdanart.tumblr.com/) for other gorgeous pieces of fanart.
> 
> I also have to say thank you to [@aspiritwind](http://aspiritwind.tumblr.com/), who sent me loads of 'inspirational' Sabriel pics when I had a mini-crisis. We had never spoken before, and they cared enough to do that for a fellow writer and shipper. :)
> 
> The title of the fic is taken from the Chris de Burgh album "Into the Light"; the last three tracks of which are about the Apocalypse. I have spent years having them in my head every time I watch an episode with a Horseman in it. The plot of this fic doesn't really follow the songs in any way - I am simply borrowing their titles for my own nefarious purposes.
> 
> I am doing new things that are making me very nervous about this, so I hope you will be patient with me:
> 
>   1. This is my first Big Bang.
>   2. This is by far my longest complete fic. The sheer length of it is mind-blowing for me and I honestly panicked lots about getting it finished in time.
>   3. I am following the vague plot of Season 5, and I have borrowed the odd line from the show here and there. I swore I would _never_ do this, because I have seen it done badly several times. I hope you won't be put off by this, because I have tried really hard not to follow too closely - where I have used scenes from episodes, they are heavily edited to include Gabriel - you definitely won't be seeing the script word for word!
> 


Sam and Dean Didn’t Talk about their relationships any more. Sam could only assume that was because, this time, he was sleeping with a guy: in the past, Dean had never stopped himself from giving Sam grief about any of Sam’s girlfriends, as few and far between as they had been.

Equally, Dean had never really ever stopped himself from spilling just enough about his own conquests that it made Sam wish he didn’t have a brother. Sam could have written multiple porn movies with the details Dean had gone into about the girls he slept with, and Sam could only attribute his silence this time on it being a ‘serious relationship’. The only girls Sam knew nothing about were Lisa Braedon and Cassie Robinson - Dean’s previous ‘serious relationships’. (He was pretty sure that there was something he didn’t know about Rhonda Hurley, but he was also pretty sure he didn’t want to know what it was.) It wasn’t as if Sam didn’t know that Dean and Cas were serious, because they were freaking made for each other; they just didn’t talk about it.

This was Okay, because talking about things that involved Feelings was something that Winchesters just didn’t do. Talking about Feelings inevitably led to the dreaded Chick-Flick Moment, and that was a thing that Must Not Happen, lest the world think any less of them and suspect that they might be real human beings with real problems and real emotions after all.

Sometimes, Sam wondered whether Gabriel and Cas had the same issues, and made himself laugh every time because even though they didn’t have the human hang-ups that were stopping him and Dean, Cas was about as expressive and verbose as a rock and Gabriel could be too when he wanted to; whenever he got uncomfortable. They were all as bad as each other.

Which led Sam neatly to his dilemma, because he wanted to break this new rule he and Dean had. He needed to talk to Dean about their relationships, as awful and uncomfortable as it was going to be. Because there had been a few days, right at the start, when the angels had been open books to him; when neither angel had been able to hide how he was feeling. There had been only one time when Sam had felt even just the phantom warmth of Gabriel’s wings and enjoyed the security of being cocooned in strong, sleek feathers, and Sam missed it: he hated not being able to see or feel something that was such a fundamental part of his partner.

“Can you still see Cas’ wings?”

“Sam!” Dean predictably shifted uncomfortably behind the wheel and risked a sideways glance at Sam. “What the hell do you want to know that for?”

This ‘talking’ thing could turn out to be a dangerous tactic, because Sam realised he would have to ‘fess up to his and Gabriel’s little deception if he wasn’t careful; it was kind of their fault that he and Dean had ever been able to see the angels’ wings in the first place. They had conspired together, Sam had gotten Dean into a position where Gabriel could cast the spell, and had gotten himself cursed accidentally in the process. But it had worked; Dean had been able to see just how happy Cas was around him, and the sudden open-ness had led directly to them getting together. And Dean was happy, which meant that he wasn’t growling at everyone and everything, which meant that Sam could try to be happy too. Gabriel was a huge part of Sam’s happiness, and the wings were kind of a huge part of Gabriel. 

“I could never see them as clearly as you,” Sam said. “I just wondered if the spell had worn off, that’s all.”

“Not as much as I could at first,” Dean admitted, “but…”

“They’re a part of him,” Sam prompted. “You want to be able to see them.”

Dean grunted, keeping his eyes firmly ahead on the road. Sam could see the blush creeping up his neck. “Yeah.”

“I can’t see Gabriel’s,” Sam said. “It wore off for me before he even came back. I kind of miss them: at least I knew what he was feeling before.”

“Before what?” Dean asked sharply, shrewdly. Sam cursed himself inwardly: he had forgotten that while Cas knew that Gabriel had been hanging around before the time he had invaded their hotel room one night about a month ago, Dean didn’t. To be fair to Dean, he had probably suspected something because he wasn’t stupid, but Sam had always texted Gabriel, or gone for a walk or a run to keep their face-to-face meetings a secret from his brother.

“Sam,” Dean said, his tone dangerous, “tell me that hot cheerleader witch that cursed me was not your Trickster boyfriend.”

“Um…”

“I’m going to freaking _kill_ you! What the hell, Sam?”

Sam boggled at him. “Are you kidding me? You and Cas needed a shove in the right direction, otherwise you’d still be tiptoeing around, staring longingly into each other’s eyes.”

Dean made a noise of protest before snapping his mouth shut, his jaw clenching in irritation.

“He suggested giving you some help,” Sam continued. “The spell was my idea – he just helped me out with setting it up and doing it.”

“Man, that’s all kinds of messed up,” Dean said. After a pause, he asked: “Does he ever turn into a girl for sex?”

The answer was ‘no’, but Sam got kind of distracted with thinking about that. Because sex with Gabriel was amazing – he knew exactly where all of Sam’s buttons were, and he had embraced Sam’s kinks wholeheartedly, but Gabriel had yet to give himself to Sam in that way, female or otherwise.

“You’re imagining it right now, aren’t you?” Dean asked wickedly. “Him mojoed into those curves? You’ve got that kind of stunned face, so I’m guessing he doesn’t?”

Sam glared and flipped him the bird. “Can we go back to not talking about our sex lives now?”

Dean snorted. “You started it, man. Your fault.”

 

.oOo.

 

The subject was dropped, but Sam couldn’t stop thinking about it. Now he had two things bugging him and he wondered whether he should bring either of them up with Gabriel since, despite Sam knowing the secret identity he had protected for so long, Gabriel still had a lot of walls up. The frustrating thing was that he was trying to give Sam as much of himself as he could, but he was (unbelievably) too uptight to unwind entirely. Particularly since he didn’t want to draw the attention of his big brothers.

“What’s up, cupcake?”

Gabriel bounced onto the bed next to him, and Sam assumed that Dean had sent a text to the angels to let them know where they were, as was becoming their custom when they stopped for the night. Just as it had become customary to book separate rooms using the credit card Gabriel had bestowed on them. That was something that they were still both getting used to – they weren’t used to not living in each other’s pockets and not having the other one snoring away beside them when they woke up from a nightmare. The angels were great companions, and Gabriel was great at keeping the nightmares away, and he was pretty awesome in other ways too, but it wasn’t the same as hearing Dean in the bed by the door, having his gentle snoring lull Sam back to sleep in the middle of the night.

Sam shrugged in response to Gabriel’s question. “Just thinking. It’s been a long day.”

Gabriel’s hands smoothed across his shoulders, his clever fingers finding the knots and digging his fingers in, easing away the tension the human way.

“You think too much sometimes,” Gabriel murmured in his ear, breath catching his hair and making it tickle across his skin. “It’s not good for you; makes you all tense and knotty and bitchy.”

Sam wanted to protest the ‘bitchy’ part, but in his heart he knew Gabriel was probably right – he was just as screwed up as Gabriel, and he did have a tendency to be the bratty and, yes, bitchy younger kid that Dean didn’t always call him out on.

“Come on, tell me,” Gabriel said encouragingly, still working on Sam’s loosening shoulders. “You’ll feel better.”

“I can’t,” Sam said with a groan as Gabriel found a particularly tight knot at the base of his neck. “Not yet.”

“Promise you’re not going to do anything stupid?”

“I’m not going to say yes to Lucifer, if that’s what you mean,” Sam replied with a little relieved laugh. “Dean and I do stuff you would consider stupid every day.”

“True,” Gabriel replied, and Sam could hear his smile. His fingers were still working, thumbs pressing hard enough to leave bruises. “Geez, Winchester, how the hell did you get this tense without flight muscles?”

“It’s a special power I have just to annoy you,” Sam told him matter-of-factly, after a moment of hesitation where he wondered if Gabriel had been picking around in his brain after all. The wing thing was a bit too close to the mark for comfort.

The warm hands slipped away: Gabriel had noticed. “Sam? What is it?”

He turned to look at Gabriel, who was all of a sudden getting to that stage where he hid behind his vessel rather than inhabiting it fully. He wasn’t all the way there, but he was definitely sat more stiffly than usual.

“I’ve not grown wings, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Gabriel eyeballed him. “Don’t be flip: Dean does it so much better it’s embarrassing. Tell me.”

“You’ll think I’m pressuring you.”

Gabriel’s eyebrows climbed upwards. At least his face was still making expressions. Kind of. “You? Pressuring me? Remind me which of us is the all-powerful cradle-snatcher here?”

Sam threw his hands up. “Fine. Since you’ll just rummage around in my head if I don’t tell you, because you’re insecure enough to do that, here: I miss seeing your wings, okay? I hate that you can close your vessel off when you’re feeling vulnerable, or upset, or sometimes when you just look at me and I can’t tell what you’re thinking or what you’re feeling because you’ve gone all ‘angel’ on me, like Cas does all the freaking time. I hate that you don’t trust me enough to let me see you all the time, not just Loki.”

Gabriel’s face dropped into that frozen expression for just a couple of moments before he seemed to shake himself and realise. His face fell, his eyes hurt and gentle, his shoulders slumping, which made his body seem even smaller than usual.

“I don’t even know I’m doing it sometimes,” he admitted softly. “I’m so used to hiding I don’t even know who I am properly any more.”

Deflating and kind of glad he had gotten this off his chest, Sam reached out to hug Gabriel. The angel reciprocated gladly, tucking himself into Sam’s broad shoulder with a practiced ease.

“I know,” Sam said as he stroked Gabriel’s arm, completely unconsciously. “I didn’t want to tell you because I know how hard you’re trying to work these things out and you don’t need me adding any more pressure on you.”

“Sam, don’t. Don’t let me get away with this crap. We’re supposed to be together, right? Boyfriends or partners or lovers or whatever term you want to use for us. That means we need to be open and honest with each other. And I need to be as honest with you as you have to be with me.”

Sam hadn’t even really thought about it like that, but he supposed Gabriel had a point – since Sam didn’t have the best poker face in the world (he was good, but Dean wiped the floor with him every damn time) and he was sleeping with a telepath, it did only seem fair that he could at least have an inkling of what Gabriel was feeling at any given time. Plus, it had been damn hot seeing the barest shadow behind Gabriel the first time they had sex, making him seem so much bigger than the delicate vessel that was shorter than some of the girls Sam had dated.

“Let me have a think,” Gabriel said. “I’m sure there must be a better way than that spell to help out here.”

 

.oOo.

 

Honesty and thinking about things were all very well and good in theory and nice to hear, but it didn’t seem to pan out in practice: over the next few days, Gabriel got more and more withdrawn, getting quieter and quieter and hiding more and more behind that inscrutable front his vessel could be when he let it. Sam knew that he shouldn’t have said anything, shouldn’t have pushed Gabriel before he was ready. Especially not with only a week or so to go before Valentine’s Day, which he already knew Gabriel loved, given it was essentially an excuse to descend into total hedonism in the name of romance.

Gabriel was being all angel, acting more like Cas than Cas, and Sam couldn’t bring himself to do what Gabriel had said and call him out on his shit. He knew he should, because Sam’s problem was just getting worse and worse; he had absolutely no way of knowing what was going on with his boyfriend, what he was thinking or feeling, and it was really frustrating to not have those all-important cues to allow him to help. It helped that it wasn’t just Sam that was getting the wooden treatment; Dean commented on it a couple of times when Gabriel wasn’t around, wondering what was up. So it probably wasn’t just that Gabriel was pissed at him for blurting out about the wing thing. Probably.

Gabriel disappeared completely for a couple of days: no note, no text, no messages relayed by Cas, no nothing. Sam usually got left a golden feather if Gabriel was going to be away teaching some jerk the error of their ways, but this time there wasn’t even that. It was like Gabriel just vanished off the face of the world for two whole days. Sam had started to get worried when he reappeared. Gabriel was still as angel-like as he had been previously; he didn’t even say anything to anyone to explain his absence, but his eyes seemed somehow older than before and he clung to Sam with a ferocious desperation that Sam decided that, as much as whatever had happened had clearly hurt Gabriel and he wished he could soothe that away, he probably really didn’t want to know what had happened. He was just there for Gabriel, allowing him to hold on to him, touch him, see him, smell him, taste him. Gabriel spent hours upon hours lavishing delicate, reverent attention on Sam, as if he was assuring himself that Sam really was right there with him, but even that didn’t change his body language any.

After another couple of days where both angels were more clingy than usual (Gabriel more noticeably than Cas), they decided to take their minds off whatever weirdness had taken place and picked up a case. It was a weird one, even by their standards, Even that was weird even by their standards, and there was very little in the world that Sam and Dean still considered ‘weird’, let alone the angels. But people were eating each other, and that seemed a touch odd, so they donned the suits and investigated like good hunters. It was almost a relief when Cas solved it pretty much straight away by not only identifying they were after a rogue cupid (which made as much sense as anything else in their lives, given they were pretty much shacking up with a pair of rogue angels themselves), but catching the little bastard too.

The angels seemed to take it personally. At first, Sam assumed that it was because this one seemed hell-bent on random destruction rather than channelling their efforts into something useful (Sam knew that, if questioned, Gabriel would argue vociferously that he didn’t destroy randomly at all), but there was something in Gabriel’s eyes; a haunted look that suggested something else entirely, but Sam was damned if he could work out what.

“It’s not him.”

Gabriel sounded so sure, so lost, that it stunned everyone into silence for a moment. The cupid, a large and disturbingly naked man, immediately hugged him so hard Sam would have been worried about Gabriel’s ability to breathe if he had actually needed to. As it was, far from being perturbed by the cupid’s nudity, Gabriel melted into the embrace just like he had done with any other kind of physical contact for a while. The tension across his shoulders seemed to unbunch, just a little.

And then Castiel ruined it.

“Are you certain?”

Gabriel turned his head and scowled at him. Sam couldn’t help a little internal cheer at seeing an actual expression on Gabriel’s face. This was progress.

“Of course I’m sure,” the archangel snapped. “How can you even ask that after…? Look at him: he’s all shiny and pure and he reeks of Heaven. Not a care in the fucking world.”

The cupid peered at him curiously, and Sam panicked. Gabriel had spent so long keeping his ass hidden from Heaven: was it all about to come tumbling down because of one stupid case that just happened to have gotten a little, bottom-of-the-Heavenly-ladder cupid involved?

Cas scowled back. “Do not presume that I am indicative of all rogue angels, Loki,” he said, sounding so important and imperious that Sam might have bought the cover story about Gabriel’s identity himself if he didn’t already know the truth. He might have also bought the excuse about hanging around with Cas being the reason Loki would know what rogue angels looked like except that Gabriel had been about to say something important, something that might well explain where he had disappeared off to and what had happened to him during that time.

The cherub sighed as if in dismay, his eyes fixed reproachfully on Castiel for a moment before seeming to shrug it off, his face lighting up again and he gave Gabriel one last squeeze before releasing him.

“Oh, who am I to judge?” he announced cheerfully. “You guys thrive on love, just like we do.” He turned to Castiel, his smile wobbling slightly. “Is there something wrong, brother? Can I help?”

Cas hesitated, just a little. Just enough that Dean jumped in.

“The poor schmucks you’re targeting are eating each other,” he said, blunt as ever. Sam felt his eyes roll just as the cupid crumpled before them and turn back to Gabriel, who hugged him willingly. Sam felt a surge of affection at seeing Gabriel taking care of one of his little brothers even when he was so out of sorts himself. It made him wonder what Gabriel had been like back in Heaven, back when everything had been happy. Had Gabriel looked after them all back then too? Had he waded in to sort out petty squabbles between angels? Maybe shown them the wonders of the Earth? Comforted them when they were upset, just like this cupid here? Had he been the one to teach Cas how to fly, just like Dean had taught Sam to walk? That was kind of weird to think about, but it made Gabriel a little more comprehensible to Sam.

“Hey, it’s not your fault,” Gabriel said gently, glaring at Dean, who shrugged and shifted his feet uncomfortably. “Just, maybe hold off on anyone else on your list for a couple of days, yeah? Until we’ve got this wrapped up?”

There was a line of tension across the cupid’s broad shoulders. “But…”

“You have a quota,” Cas stepped in, shocking everyone by resting a hand on the other angel’s shoulder. “I understand. However, I am certain your superiors would object to the untimely deaths of your targets, whether it is your touch precipitating these tragedies or not, more than they would you falling behind slightly.”

There was a little sniffle and the head came up off of Gabriel’s shoulder. “You’re right,” he said. “I can always come back here in… a week?”

Gabriel gave him a bright smile. “Should be more than enough time to wrap this case up, right boys?”

Sam agreed hastily, and even Dean said yes. They soon regretted being so quick, because the cupid bounced over and hugged them both, happy once again, before disappearing off to pastures new. 

“Dude!” Dean exclaimed, elbowing Cas in the ribs the second the cupid vanished. “I didn’t know you could lie like that.”

Cas shifted uncomfortably. “If any angel were to become aware of Gabriel’s presence, we would have the full force of Heaven here within moments. It seemed prudent to mislead Phinehas.”

Dean had missed it, then. He hadn’t seen the pain Gabriel was in when they had talked about rogue angels, or Castiel’s fairly obvious deflection. Sam was sure something had happened to them recently, and that another angel was involved. But now wasn’t the time to deal with that thought, because if it wasn’t a fallen cherub causing all the problems, then what was it? Gabriel, being a pagan god, probably would have nailed it straight away if it had been another god, or even witch, and Cas was pretty hot about magic too.

Something about this whole place was bothering Sam, and it wasn’t just the weird murders and/or suicides. His chicken salad that evening didn’t seem to take even just the edge off his hunger, and neither did the piece of cake Gabriel pushed in front of him. Gabriel spent the entire time plastered to his side, even more so than he had been over the last couple of days which, given how weird he had been for the last week or so, probably would have been nice if Sam hadn’t been so hungry he really wanted to focus on his food. And, distracting as Gabriel was, nothing was weirder than whatever was going on with Dean and Cas – Dean had practically no appetite at all, whereas Cas was literally stealing the food from his plate, and not just a fry or two either, like Gabriel sometimes did, but the whole freaking burger. He’d done the same with Dean’s plate at lunch. Even Gabriel was taken aback by that because, try as they might, Cas had never taken to any American foods until today and had stuck faithfully to the odd takeout meal from Beijing. Gabriel had never quite managed to teach him to taste the way humans did. Dean had a look on his face that suggested he would probably be objecting if he was in any way hungry himself. Sam might have thought they had switched bodies if it wasn’t for Castiel’s rigid body language, and the fact their speech patterns were both still characteristically their own.

It was a disaster of an evening, all in all. Researching was fairly pointless, and was hampered by the fact that Gabriel was clearly trying to prevent himself from climbing into Sam’s lap, and ended up bouncing between all three of them, seemingly desperate for any kind of affection. Dean, after an initial ‘what the hell?’ moment, was surprisingly willing to reciprocate, grabbing Gabriel occasionally and giving a firm hug, not even grumbling too much when Gabriel just seemed to melt into his chest for a couple of minutes. Castiel was as stiff as a board, looking very uncertain at first when Gabriel came to him, but he took his lead from Dean and soon got into the snuggling and held Gabriel for as long as he wanted. Sam knew that was an angel thing; that they absolutely loved having each other around because angels weren’t made to be alone. He could only assume that Castiel’s initial hesitance only came from some lingering sense of proprietariness regarding their ranks. It was probably similar to what Sam would feel if he ever needed to comfort Dean: he would do it, and happily (not that he could admit to that, of course), but it was an odd role-reversal and would probably take him a little while to get his head around it.

In the meantime, Dean had pulled his hipflask out three times, seemingly out of habit, looked at it in surprise, and put it away again without taking his customary ‘healthy’ swig before turning back to his research. Castiel, on the other hand, looked restless whenever he wasn’t snuggled with Gabriel. He had that look that suggested he probably would have disappeared some time ago had Gabriel not been there. Had this happened a couple of months ago, before Gabriel, before Dean had opened his eyes and seen what was standing in front of him, he more than likely would have been gone in a heartbeat.

It was all very weird, and probably something to do with whatever was going on. Between all the antics going on around him and the hunger that went beyond his stomach and was beginning to gnaw at his very soul, there was no way Sam was going to get any research done. He didn’t have the first clue what to look for, since neither Dean’s nor Gabriel’s behaviour matched the established pattern. He and Gabriel retired to their own room, and Sam would have tossed and turned fitfully, except that he had an archangel doing a fair impression of an octopus at his side. He probably wouldn’t have slept at all if not for said archangel mojoing him asleep, or so Sam suspected.

 

.oOo.

 

He awoke with a start in a cold sweat; not with a nightmare about Lucifer (and boy how he was _not_ missing those these days), but with a horrible sense of clarity. He knew exactly what was wrong with him, why he felt so hungry. His heart was pounding in his ears, his mouth as dry as a bone.

At his side lay Gabriel, still touching as much bare skin as possible. And beside him, perched on the side of their king-size, creasing the Egyptian cotton sheets and resting a hand on Gabriel’s shoulder, was Castiel, who was casting a much larger shadow than should be feasible in the dim light coming in through the crappy curtains.

“It’s famine,” Cas said by way of greeting, absolutely typically making no apologies for his presence. Or that of the burger Sam could smell wafting over to him. “He makes us hunger for that which we lack.”

Sam, barely awake and desperately trying not to shake like a junkie, couldn’t quite work out what Cas meant.

“He means the horseman Famine,” Gabriel added helpfully after a moment. “It’s not all food with him; it’s whatever you hunger for. Seems Cassie’s vessel has a thing for beef, probably because he doesn’t feed it anywhere near enough. I… I was alone too long, and, well, you…”

“Demon blood,” Sam finished. The craving was burning in his veins by now; a sensation Sam had fought hard to be rid of last year and only divine intervention had helped in the end. This is probably what he should have felt like just after he opened up Lucifer’s Cage; like he had felt those times Ruby had left him hanging for a few days longer than necessary, just to assert her hold over him.

“Sorry, kiddo,” Gabriel said, and he sounded genuinely remorseful. “He’s got some hella-strong mojo: I can’t zap this out of you. We’ll get to work on it in the morning. Cas keeps going off to do ‘recon’,” (Sam could _hear_ the air quotes, they were that strong) “but it’s tricky at night, and he somehow keeps finding twenty-four hour burger joints.”

“And then there is the fact that you keep calling me back,” Cas pointed out peevishly. His voice was somewhat muffled around what Sam suspected was a mouthful of burger. There were very few other things likely to ever be found in Castiel’s mouth, and Sam really, _really_ didn’t want to go there. Ever. Also, none of those other things were in the room right now.

Gabriel coaxed him back into a comfortable sleeping position and cuddled him tightly.

“Will you be mad if I zap you back to sleep?” he asked Sam’s chest, his voice slightly unclear.

Sam shrugged. “Probably won’t sleep if you don’t,” he was forced to admit. “Especially with Cas staring at me.”

There was a snort of warm air that tickled across his chest as Gabriel laughed. “Don’t mind Cas.”

Sam opened his mouth to say something, and…

… The sun was rising when he next woke up, feeling like hell and knowing his hands were shaking badly. Gabriel had moved so that he was now sat cross-legged, with his legs and hands still touching Sam, and with Castiel’s hands doing deft things in the space behind him; space Sam could only assume was occupied by Gabriel’s wings. It still ached that he couldn’t see them any more, but it was nice to see Gabriel’s getting a bit of attention from someone. Gabriel himself was back to being unreadable, doing a remarkable impression of a statue, sitting as he was with his eyes closed, completely motionless, but Cas… Cas was actually a myriad of expressions right now. He looked like he could have been enjoying his task if not for that irritated little scowl occasionally as his hands suddenly moved close together to work on one specific spot, or the fact that he was clearly jonesing for another burger.

“Gabriel is concentrating on my actions,” Castiel said gently, his eyes alighting on Sam. “This is something we have been neglecting for some time in favour of more important pursuits.”

It was okay, it really was: they weren’t human, and they needed each other. It didn’t change anything about how Gabriel felt about him, or Cas about Dean. It was just a thing that the angels needed to do, just part of their lives. Just like…

Sam threw himself out of the bed and stumbled into the bathroom on unsteady, coltish legs. He pretended not to hear Gabriel’s pained gasp as he broke contact with the archangel.

He was being unreasonable, he knew. He had known going into this… whatever it was, that there was much more than he could ever hope to understand to Gabriel, and he really couldn’t hold that against him. Gabriel had gone to such great lengths to make sure Sam knew what he was getting into. He had even gone so far as to make sure Sam was making his own decisions, uninfluenced by Gabriel’s grace or any residual magic left over from the spell that had temporarily given Sam and Dean the ability to see the angels’ wings.

No, Sam knew this current uncharitabilty towards Gabriel came down to jealousy, pure and simple. Gabriel was craving something easily given: something Sam would be more than happy to help out with at any other time, but right now his blood was pounding in his ears, demanding the demonic element that made it stronger, made _him_ stronger, and the fact that they needed to hunt the son of a bitch causing this madness in the first place.

He looked up into the mirror and almost recoiled: Sam barely recognised his own reflection: his eyes were sunken and red-rimmed; his face pale and waxy. He looked every bit the junkie he felt he still was, despite having been clean for months after his supernatural detox.

No, he was stronger than this. He could still work, still function. He had functioned with this addiction for a year before the apocalypse had started; a couple of days now was nothing. He just needed to carry on like things were not going to shit and it would all be fine.

 

.oOo.

 

He felt a little more human by the time he had showered and shaved; human enough to go and apologise to Gabriel for being a shit and abandoning him. As it turned out, though, Dean had arrived and clearly been put on cuddle duty while Cas got breakfast.

“So, what’re you desperate for, Deano?” Gabriel was asking into Dean’s shoulder as Sam emerged from the bathroom.

Dean thought for a moment, and Sam’s mind flashed back through the previous day: the discarded burgers pounced upon by Castiel without complaint, the unopened hipflask, the fact that Cas seemed to have spent most of the night in their room instead of Dean’s, having unspeakable things done to him.

Dean shrugged after apparently considering the question too. “Nothing,” he admitted finally. “I got nothing.”

After a moment: “Am I broken?”

Gabriel draped himself even more across Dean, which Dean seemed to appreciate.

“No, kid, you’re not. Maybe you’ve just got it right – you don’t deny yourself shit like we do.”

Dean looked down at the top of Gabriel’s golden head incredulously. “You saying I’m well-adjusted?”

Gabriel laughed. “Fuck no. Think about it. C’mere, Sambo.”

Without glancing over, he reached out for Sam without any apparent trepidation, with no expectation of denial. Something dark in Sam’s head wanted to deny him, wanted Gabriel to feel the same burning emptiness hollowing him out from the inside that Sam was feeling, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Not when being wrapped up in Gabriel last night had offered some measure of distraction. So Sam slid himself onto the bed beside Gabriel, who, to Dean’s exasperation, didn’t abandon his current snuggle-buddy, oh no – Gabriel pulled Sam close and draped his torso over Sam’s lap while leaving his legs trailing over Dean’s knees. There was a single glare of ‘tell anyone and you’re dead’ before Dean resigned himself to his fate in continuing to act as an archangel’s security blanket for the morning.

“If I’m hungry, I eat whatever I feel like,” Dean said slowly, answering Gabriel’s challenge. “If I want a drink, I go drink. If I want sex, Cas is on speed dial.”

“Exactly,” Gabriel said, grinning up at him from his new position. “That’s not well-adjusted, just well fed. Speaking of…”

Cas appeared, bearing bags from the local burger joint, predictably. He seemed completely unperturbed by the cuddling arrangements and promptly sat himself between Sam and Dean’s outstretched legs, close to Gabriel but not touching in any way that Sam could see.

“Hey, how come you’re not being molested by Mr. Snuggleupagus here?” Dean grumbled half-heartedly as he accepted a paper bag that smelled strongly of bacon.

“Who says he’s not?” Gabriel countered, sounding somewhere close to cheerful. “Shut up and eat your breakfast.”

A huge, dark shadow spread out across Sam’s legs and curved up around Cas in one direction, and slouched over Sam’s shoulder in the other. A glance confirmed that the dark spectre of feathers spanned out across Dean’s shoulders too and curved around him. A blink and they were gone, but that brief glance was kind of nice. The sleek feathers meant that Gabriel wasn’t necessarily altogether happy, but that might just be because Gabriel was being forced into this level of affection rather than choosing it. The fact that Gabriel was relaxed enough to show them at all spoke volumes, and when Sam looked down again, there was something hopeful in Gabriel’s eyes, and an almost shy smile on his face. Sam didn’t say anything, not in front of their brothers, but he squeezed Gabriel’s shoulder affectionately. He had planned to leave his hand there, but Cas shoved a fruit salad in a cup at him, and his hands suddenly got otherwise occupied with the necessity of feeding his body, even if it wasn’t entirely what he wanted. Gabriel didn’t seem to mind Cas’ comfort-blocking, though – he took one look at the sad, floppy takeout pancakes Cas had bought him and cheerfully transformed them and their polystyrene container into something much more pleasing – steaming hot, fluffy pancakes on an actual plate. The only thing that seemed to stay the same was the artificial-looking maple syrup that was probably way sweeter than true maple had any right to be.

Sam tried and failed to suppress the shudder that seeing Gabriel with maple pancakes brought forward. He really did try, because he had long-since forgiven Gabriel for his misguided mission at the Mystery Spot and rarely had nightmares about it any more (those had been supplanted by nightmares of Dean being ripped apart by hellhounds only a few weeks later), but just occasionally something would give him a flashback to those horrendous months he still remembered living. Just three things really triggered it these days – the song, and Dean had thrown his Asia cassette away after the one and only time he had played it and sent Sam into a panic attack; pigs in pokes (something Dean avoided these days); and maple syrup pancakes. Those were less easy to avoid, and Sam had thought he had kicked that particular trigger a long time ago (actually, Ruby had been really helpful there – she had ordered them constantly for a month to desensitise him), but there was something about seeing Gabriel specifically with them that started him off this time.

“Sam?”

It was Dean who spoke, but Cas was eyeing him with concern too, the burger dropped back onto its paper; and Gabriel was half-sat up, and eyeing the plate on his stomach with growing horror.

“I’m fine,” Sam said shortly. He carefully counted his breathing, forcing himself to breathe in slowly and carefully, and let the air back out the same way.

“Bullshit,” Gabriel said, sounding shaky himself. Sam forced himself to look at the archangel, and noticed that the plate was gone. “Is… Do you want me to go?”

Sam considered this: it often did help to get away from the source, but he didn’t want to push Gabriel away, and if he did then Gabriel would spend the time blaming himself. It wouldn’t do anyone any good in the long run.

“No,” he said carefully. “Please, don’t.”

The blood was pounding in his ears, and he couldn’t tell if it was the addiction or the panic attack or both. The room seemed to fade to nothingness, and the only thing that was important was that he just kept breathing: in for three seconds, hold for three seconds, out for three seconds; repeat. As long as he could keep breathing properly, everything else would come back in time.

 

.oOo.

 

“Sammy.”

The voice was gentle but insistent, filtering its way through the white noise and the relentless drumbeat that filled his head and threatened to explode outwards.

“Come on, Sam; you’re better than this.”

The voice was right: he _was_ better than this. He had survived Dean’s death, over and over and over, and even when Dean had died for real, he had coped. Okay, so he hadn’t exactly coped well, but he had coped. He had survived, because that was what he did.

“That’s it, Sammy. You keep on fighting. Keep on saying ‘no’ to losing control.”

That seemed sensible. No-one could take away control of his body without his permission. Not even the Devil himself could do that, let alone a crummy runaway angel playing at being Pagan.

Said crummy archangel was a warm weight across his thighs, his eyes clouded with worry as he studied Sam carefully. His hands were either side of Sam’s head, fingers threaded into Sam’s hair desperately; not tight enough that it would cause Sam any discomfort, but enough that they were definitely there. There were definitely worse things to see and feel when the world came back, Sam knew from far too much experience.

“There you are,” Gabriel said, his voice shaking and his shoulders sagging with relief. “I am so sorry. I didn’t even think. Does that happen a lot?”

Sam shook his head gently. “Not any more.”

It was completely the wrong thing to say: Gabriel froze, his expression falling back into ‘angel mode’. His hands dropped suddenly to his sides

“Then it was me, not the pancakes.”

Sam caught hold of his wrists before he could do a Cas-like disappearing act. Not that Sam thought for an instant he could keep Gabriel there if the angel really wanted to leave, but he hoped the message would get through.

“I have let you restrain me,” Sam pointed out. “Hell, I asked you to restrain me. I have begged you to fuck me. Believe me, I forgave you. I trust you.”

Gabriel looked down at his hands, which was a human enough behaviour to reassure Sam somewhat: it meant that Gabriel wasn’t hiding himself completely away again.

“I don’t deserve you to,” he said softly. “Because I don’t think I could do it either – I’d rather have my brother imprisoned for all eternity than have to let him…”

Gabriel’s head came up slowly, his eyes gleaming with excitement as some thought clearly dawned on him.

“Oh. Oh!”

Cas and Dean appeared, startling Sam who hadn’t even noticed that they had clearly disappeared during his panic attack. After Dean was convinced he was going to be okay, he assumed, because there was no way Dean would have left if he wasn’t sure; especially leaving him with Gabriel.

“Do you think it will work?” Cas asked, clearly excited in his customarily very controlled way.

Gabriel nodded and grinned at Sam properly for the first time in ages, kissed him soundly to Dean’s objection, and then turned to acknowledge their brothers.

“Sam reminded me of something Daddy told me just after Mikey slammed the door on the Cage. Something I don’t think He ever told Mikey or Raph. A way we can end this.”

Castiel rolled his eyes. “What Gabriel should be saying is apparently there is a secondary way to open Lucifer’s Cage, using the rings of the Four Horsemen.”

Dean blinked and dug his hand into his pocket.

“You mean like this one?”

Gabriel’s eyes bugged out as Dean produced a seemingly inconspicuous plain gold ring.

“For real?” He made a grabby motion with his hand and Dean passed it to him somewhat reluctantly.

“Well, you boys are just full of surprises, aren’t you?” Gabriel sounded genuinely impressed. “Sometime, you’re going to need to tell me the stuff I haven’t seen from the prophet yet, but right now…”

He blinked and broke off as Castiel lifted the ring out of his hand. The slightly maniacal gleam that had been growing in his eyes faded.

“I think Dean should continue to protect this,” Cas said blandly, handing it back without hesitation. “The rings were not meant for us, brother.”

Gabriel nodded somewhat dazedly. “Yeah. Okay. Guess there’s no chance you’ve got Pestilence’s too?”

Sam shook his head. “Just War’s. We ran into him a while back. We can get to Pestilence later: what about Famine?”

“Find out where he’s holed up and chop his finger off too,” Dean said, sounding very sure of himself. And Sam supposed it was easier for him since he wasn’t dealing with any distracting urges. That seemed like a pretty tall order to Sam. But then again, Dean had always seen the world that simply anyway. It was what made him a good hunter.

“Good idea,” Gabriel said. “Darling Luci has probably sent a whole load of demons to help Famine, ‘cause he’s kind of useless on his own – I mean, can’t even wipe his own ass kind of useless – so we can track them easy enough.”

Something in Sam sat up and paid attention at that, desperately wanting to be in on this plan.

“Sammy…” Dean sounded wary now, and he probably had every right to. “Can you hold it together?”

“Yeah.” Because he had to. They needed to do this, not just to help the people of this town, but because they needed this in order to save the whole world from their screw-up.

 

.oOo.

 

A run-in with two demons later, and Sam had to concede defeat; it had been too close. Gabriel had been almost playing with one, trying to get information from it before getting his smite on, certain that Sam could handle the second. His confidence in Sam had been somewhat misplaced, because while Sam had no trouble at all overpowering the demon, its meat-suit half his size, the second he nicked it with the blade he was lost to the sharp, tangy scent of her blood. He had wasted precious seconds just staring at the ruby droplets on the blade, his breathing too fast and the need thundering through his head, screaming in his ears like the roar of a thousand Impalas. He had just dipped his head to suckle from the wound, just like he used to do with Ruby, when she screamed. A bright white light shone from her eyes and mouth as she burned up. Gabriel’s hand was on the back of her head, his eyes like fire as he caught Sam’s eyes and held them.

Without saying a word, Gabriel flew them back to the motel, grabbed the knife and threw it into the wall where it stayed, quivering. Later, Sam would realise how restrained Gabriel had been – it could easily have been through the wall, and probably the next too.

Sam found himself flat on his back on the bed, with the angel straddling his hips before he could blink again. He shoved urgently, insistently, determined to get back out there and find what he needed, but Gabriel wouldn’t be budged. Sam heard himself snarl in wordless frustration as he found himself thwarted.

Gabriel shoved him down, strong hands on his shoulders forced him to lie back.

“You said you had it,” he growled. “You said you could hold it together.”

“Like you have?” Sam spat. “You couldn’t wait to get your hands on me again.”

That might have been a touch unfair, since Gabriel had been on his best, albeit slightly terrifying, behaviour on the hunt. He had kept himself to himself (all the parts Sam could see, anyway) and done the job. But Sam wasn’t anywhere near the mood to forgive, and continued to struggle against Gabriel’s firm restraint.

There was a click of Gabriel’s fingers, and Sam’s wrists were abruptly cuffed to the newly-metal bedstead and Gabriel was sitting back. Sam choked off the moan that escaped him as the movement rubbed up against his treacherous dick that had decided this was exactly his kind of thing and that he should be begging for Gabriel’s cock right about now.

“Sorry, Sammy,” Gabriel said, easing up the pressure. He sounded genuinely remorseful. “Angry sex sounds like an awesome idea, but you’re not in your right mind; you can’t consent . And I reckon our brothers need help right about now.”

He slid gently from the bed, and through the red haze of his vision, Sam could see the effort, the restraint that simple move had taken.

“Stay safe, Sammy. I’ll be back soon.”

He pressed a gentle kiss to Sam’s forehead and vanished. Sam struggled against his restraints, but only succeeded in bruising his wrists against the cuffs. The bed didn’t shift so much as an inch across the floor, and Sam came to the conclusion that Gabriel had bolted it down. It seemed like a sensible thing to have done and, as the immediacy of the blood lust faded with no-one there to rally against and Sam slumped into the welcoming mattress, he could appreciate exactly what Gabriel had done for him. Far from wanting to torture Sam, this was something done for his own good. It was something Sam would have asked for had he been thinking clearly enough. Hopefully, with the three of them on this, it would all be over soon and Gabriel could come back to finish what he had unwittingly started.

In the meantime, Sam tried not to think about what he had looked like, perched over Sam, eyes blazing with righteous fury, his power threatening to spill out. He had looked like the avenging archangel he should always have been, and god _dammit_ , did Sam want a piece of _that_.

 

.oOo.

 

The demons found him before Gabriel did. They both looked like Christmas had come early when they burst through the locked door and found him bound to the bed, their eyes lighting up with glee as they took in the scene. The one with the male meat-suit eyed his groin hungrily, and Sam was very conscious of the fact that he was still half-hard.

“Shame the boss wants you right now,” he purred in Sam’s ear as he grabbed the cuff restraining his right hand. “I’d love to have tried that out while you’re all helpless and desperate.”

Rather than searching for a key that didn’t exist, they each snapped one set of cuffs using a supernatural strength Gabriel clearly hadn’t thought to account for when he created them. With the use of his arms back, Sam shoved the guy hard and he flew back into the wall. The woman put up more of a fight, and they ended up falling together onto the glass coffee table with her underneath him. It cushioned the blow for Sam, and left her bleeding from somewhere Sam couldn’t see but he certainly could smell and it set the hunger singing through his veins once again, its clamour drowning out anything else; any ounce of common sense that would have told him this was a really bad thing. With a trembling hand, he picked up a large fragment of the shattered table top and sliced a deep cut in the hollow of her throat. Blood welled up and he pressed his mouth to the wound before any could be lost.

The rich, thick flavour burst across his tongue as he sucked greedily, groaning as the power flowed from it into him, strengthening him and awakening his power once more. The male demon rushed him and he flung it back without a second thought. He would deal with it soon enough.

The woman struggled weakly under him as he drained her dry; she wasn’t nearly enough to satisfy the need and he put her out of her misery with a mere thought as he turned on the man, who looked terrified now that the tables were turned. He backed up across the floor until the bed was at his back. He was completely at Sam’s mercy.

 

.oOo.

 

It was easy enough to find the others by following his nose: he could smell the stink of the demons from across town. Famine wasn’t making it difficult, but then again, the demons had said that Famine wanted him, probably to hand over to Lucifer. He was getting heartily sick of Hell’s attention, if he was honest: Lucifer could bite him. Hell would have to freeze over before Sam would give himself up to anyone.

When he got to the Big Gerson’s, the strike team were embarrassing themselves somewhat. Everyone had cracked, Sam included: Castiel was on the floor under a table, eating what looked like raw burger meat with his bare hands; Gabriel was curled around him, clinging desperately even though he looked ashamed of himself as he did it; Dean was in the best shape, but he looked rattled by the whole situation. Given that he was surrounded by a multitude of demons and a Horseman of the Apocalypse, that was understandable. Sam’s appearance probably wasn’t helping, since he was aware that he hadn’t taken any time to clean the blood from his face. It was probably very obvious what had happened back at the motel, especially as Famine was making such a big deal about it. Sam had considered that he had probably intended Sam to feed from them on the way over, but it didn’t matter in the long run. As a result of Famine’s ‘gift’, Sam had the strength to defeat Famine. They knew he fed on souls, and Gabriel had been fairly certain that demon souls would feed Famine’s hunger just as well as human. So, when Sam’s willpower won out and he refused the rest of the demons – something he was pretty sure he wouldn’t be able to come back from – he was counting on Famine consuming them himself and giving Sam the ability to use the demon souls to rip Famine apart. 

He was glad it all worked, because Sam wasn’t the best strategist in the world (he much preferred leaving that to Dean and Cas, thanks), and he was off his face on demon blood. But it had all come together and culminated in another incapacitated Horseman. Instantly, the angels came back to their senses: Cas was at Dean’s side, making sure he was okay and Gabriel was at Sam’s, trying to glare at him but there was far too much underlying concern for it to be effective.

“Help me?” Sam begged, first of Gabriel, then of Dean and Cas too. They all nodded their agreement, knowing this was going to be a long, hard road for Sam. They had two more Horsemen to track down, but they would do it as a team.

 

.oOo.

 

Sam’s eyes opened slowly and reluctantly, and he quickly realised that time had passed. Gabriel blinked a few times and the iron hold he had on Sam seemed to relax, as if Gabriel was settling back into his skin properly.

“Welcome back,” he said softly, bending to press a kiss to Sam’s forehead.

“Hey,” Sam croaked. His throat felt dry and raw, as if he had been screaming. He realised wryly that he probably had, if the previous withdrawal was anything to go by. Gabriel blinked and with a gentle brush of his fingers, the pain was gone.

Out of habit, Sam took stock of the situation: they were holed up somewhere he didn’t recognise, but by the looks of things was probably an apartment. It was tastefully and minimally decorated, with soft white walls and plain wooden furniture. They were lying on navy sheets that were softer than sheets had any right to be, but that seemed to be common whenever Gabriel was around. He was lying across Gabriel’s lap, which was absolutely fine, and he didn’t feel disgusting and sweaty and wrung out like he knew from bitter experience of withdrawal that he should be.

“Don’t _ever_ make me have to help you through that again,” Gabriel said, making Sam look more closely at him. He sounded tired, and Sam realised with a shock that he had seemed that way for quite some time now: it wasn’t just as a result of helping out with Sam’s rehab.

“Gabriel, what happened a couple of weeks back?”

This was probably his best chance to ask, while they were both unguarded and kind of flush with their victory over Famine. But Cas and Dean chose that moment to spill through the door, just as Sam was halfway through voicing the question.

Instead of some wise-ass remark, Dean glanced at Castiel, whose expression flickered minutely to ‘resigned’, if Sam had to put a name to it. Cas perched somewhat awkwardly at the foot of the bed, and promptly got shoved into something more natural by Dean before he sat down right beside Cas and pulled the angel into his side. It was sweet and domestic and Dean would probably maim Sam horribly if it was ever spoken about.

“Our sister Anna was…” He glanced at Gabriel, who sounded very unhappy when he supplied the word:

“Brainwashed.”

“Thank you, Gabriel,” Cas continued as if him stumbling with English and having to ask for a translation was a common thing. “She was brainwashed, probably much the same way as I was six months ago, and allowed to believe she had escaped from Heaven.”

“We have a difference of opinion here,” Gabriel interjected. “I think she genuinely did escape. Mikey wouldn’t have signed off on what she did.”

“Wait – Anna was caught? Heaven got her?”

Cas shifted uncomfortably, and Sam realised that he had been instrumental in Anna’s capture. It had probably happened just after his own brainwashing by Heaven. Dean’s arm squeezed Cas’ shoulders: it seemed he had realised the same thing.

“So, Anna escaped from the House of Dicks and…?”

“She was no longer herself.” Castiel’s voice was bland enough, but somehow he sounded like he was trying to give a reason what he was about to relate, so that they wouldn’t think badly of Anna. “I assume you recall my behaviour, after only a day?”

“And they had her six months,” Dean said. “We’re with you, Cas. I’ve been there too, remember?”

That was new: they didn’t really talk about what had happened to Castiel. Sam understood that he had probably been tortured, but none of them ever explicitly said so. Just like they didn’t talk about Dean’s time in Hell and what he had endured. But in breaking the unspoken rule, Dean had done something good: not only did Cas seem to relax a little now he knew they all understood each other, and that Dean truly did understand (for both him and Anna), but Gabriel also looked more thoughtful.

“Yeah, she wasn’t okay,” Gabriel said carefully. “The Anael I knew wouldn’t have…”

He trailed off and clutched at Sam. This was really big if Gabriel couldn’t even say it.

“Anna had determined that the logical way to stop Lucifer without taking him on head-to-head, which would be suicidal, was to kill Sam,” Cas said, once again with that careful placidity. “She was not able to get close because of Gabriel’s presence here, so she travelled back in time and…” Even Cas broke off here, and Sam suddenly had a horrible feeling that he knew what Cas was going to say. The realisation hit him like a bucket of cold water.

“She killed Mom before I was born,” he suggested, deliberately not looking at anyone.

“Yeah,” Gabriel said shakily. “Her and your dad, back in seventy-eight.”

Seventy-eight? But that meant… He looked up sharply at Dean and Cas. Cas was leaning into Dean more than earlier, and had snaked his arms around Dean’s waist so that he was holding on tightly, kind of like Gabriel had been doing when he was under Famine’s influence.

“We watched as you both disappeared,” Cas said, “as you were never born and time rewrote itself around you. It was harder on Gabriel – he retains more knowledge of altered timelines than I do because of his rank – and he flew back to rectify Anna’s… misdeeds.”

His voice was still reasonably steady, but his eyes were not: he had that desperate look about him that they only normally saw when he was in big trouble and on the run. Or when Dean was doing something really stupid and suicidal.

“And…?” Dean prompted after a moment’s silence. He was gentle about it, as gentle as he would be with a grieving widow or the kid of a vic.

“And we wouldn’t be having this conversation if I’d failed,” Gabriel snapped. It was more defensive than angry, which told Sam enough to work out what had gone down, that the inevitable had happened. Gabriel had done what he had vowed never to do and killed one of his siblings, and he had done it to protect Sam and Dean. He had killed an angel to protect two humans. And Sam kind of thought that Anna might have had a point – Sam’s death (or non-existence) would put a massive kink in Lucifer’s plans to annihilate the world. Suddenly, Sam felt like he didn’t really need to see Gabriel’s wings quite so much any more to know that the archangel cared for him. That Gabriel would do something that enormous for him was… it was amazing and wonderful and terrifying and how could Sam ever begin to thank Gabriel for what he had done for him? And how could he ever doubt how Gabriel felt about him after something like that?


	2. Death

Sam was practically climbing the walls of Gabriel’s extra-dimensional home when he stumbled upon their next case: a spate of weird omens in Sioux Falls, of all places, and a possible dead man walking. Dean was scowling at him for being on the laptop, but promptly stopped when Sam shoved it at him.

“Huh. I’m sure Bobby’s on it.”

That was possible, Sam supposed: he wasn’t used to thinking of Bobby being on his feet any more. Gabriel had healed him up a few weeks back, tutting about the special care and attention that should be due to spinal cords, i.e. not shoving knives through them. Bobby had responded by threatening to trap him in holy oil for all eternity if he so much as put a foot wrong anywhere near any of his boys. At least Gabriel had laughed and taken it in the spirit it had been intended, because he hated to think what might happen to someone if Gabriel ever decided to take things personally. Let’s face it, the last time he had done that, Sam, Dean and Cas had spent days trapped in TV Land, with Bobby helpless to do anything.

It was possible that Bobby was on the case, but they all had their cell phones on and Bobby knew they weren’t working on a case right now. Even if he was on this, which it seemed so unlikely that he wouldn’t be since it was on his doorstep, he was on his own: why hadn’t he contacted Dean and/or Cas to help out? Sam got that Bobby wouldn’t bother him while he was recovering, but Dean and Cas were both okay and increasingly bored and fidgety and would welcome the distraction of a case. Sam would welcome the distraction of a case right now, because as nice as it was spending a bit of time away with Gabriel and their brothers with nothing better to do than drink beer and look into tracking the two remaining Horsemen and watch movies and try to find a spell that shows angels’ wings to humans and teach Cas to play poker, Sam was very much aware there was an apocalypse brewing outside their little bubble of semi-reality.

Gabriel gave the screen a cursory glance that probably took in every scrap of information. “About time we showed him how well Sam’s doing, don’t you think, Deano? Stop him worrying.”

Dean scowled at Gabriel, but it didn’t last for long. That level of persuasion, hitting him at the family level, never failed to change Dean’s mind.

“I guess. Fine. Give me ten to get my stuff together.”

He bustled off to his and Cas’ bedroom before Gabriel could say anything. Sam had no doubt that Gabriel would have packed Dean’s duffle for him, even exchanged the comfortable lounging sweatpants he was wearing for jeans during the flight, but Dean didn’t like it. Actually, now he thought about it, Sam realised he probably wanted to grab his stuff too, if they were heading back to reality.

“I can leave a door open to here,” Gabriel said softly in his ear, slouching onto the couch beside him and snuggling into his side. “It’s not the most subtle thing in the world if my bros are looking for it, but we could stay with Bobby and not be under his feet the whole time.”

Castiel glanced over. “Could we place sufficient warding at Bobby’s home to disguise an extra-dimensional hotspot?” he asked. “It would be helpful if we were able to access your library while still able to remain in touch with the real world. I feel somewhat disconnected here, and I know that Dean does too. He would rather have the comfort of his own home available to him.”

Sam scratched the back of his neck as Gabriel appeared to think about that one. “Yeah, I… it all feels a bit unreal here too, like it would be easy to forget about everything if I let myself. But there’s a whole world of people out there who don’t even know they’re relying on us to save them, and I’m just not feeling the urgency of that here. Cas is right – it would be great to have the library – but I’d love to keep our room, our little sanctuary, if we can.”

Gabriel was far too like Dean for his own good, and with both Cas and Sam working on him he had absolutely no chance of ever saying no. So in the ten minutes Dean took to wash up, change and gather his things, Cas and Gabriel put their heads together and came up with a way to ward the crap out of Bobby’s scrapyard and keep the angels from spotting the power bleed created by a doorway to a pocket universe.

A front door appeared to the apartment, and Gabriel opened it with a flourish to reveal the very welcome sight of Bobby’s basement. Apparently putting the doorway below ground level was a good start at hiding it.

“What the…?”

There was a surprised exclamation from upstairs that was perfectly audible to them, then: “Dean? Sam?”

“Hey, Bobby,” Sam shouted up, shouldering his way out past Gabriel and towards the stairs. “We’re just coming up now.”

The basement door was ripped open, flooding the rickety stairs with bright sunlight. “What has that idiot archangel of yours been up to now?”

“Bringing these bozos home,” Gabriel replied cheerfully. “Thought it was past time.”

Bobby pulled Sam into a tight hug when he got to the top of the stairs. “How you doing, boy?”

“Good,” Sam said, giving Bobby a firm pat on the back. “I’m good. Completely clean again.”

“You okay, Bobby?” Dean asked from the foot of the stairs. “Have you combed your hair?”

Sam took a step back and eyed Bobby carefully as he growled at Dean. He _had_ combed his hair, and his clothes were clean and neat for a change, the omnipresent ball cap missing. It probably would be nice to see Bobby taking care of himself for once if it wasn’t so weird.

“Bobby? Is everything okay down there?”

That voice came from _behind_ Bobby. A female voice, coming from the main house.

“You got to go,” Bobby hissed at them.

“You’re entertaining when there’s omens stacking up on the doorstep? A case?” Dean asked, disbelief clear in his voice. “Sure. We’ll just head on out the door and leave you and your lady friend to it.”

“Or we could just start investigating right here,” Gabriel added, hopping up onto the step beside Sam with an air of suspicion about him. “Why are you being so cagey, Bobby?”

“I imagine the fact that Bobby’s friend has no heartbeat may be contributing,” Cas said blandly, as if he didn’t know exactly how Dean was going to take that.

“What the…? Seriously? Bobby!”

“Bobby, who’s down there? Should I call the cops?”

“No! Don’t. It’s all fine, honey.”

Bobby looked guilty as all hell when he turned back to them.

“She ain’t hurting no-one.”

Sam sighed. No wonder Bobby hadn’t called if this woman was who he thought she was. This was going to be messy and awful.

Dean elbowed his way up the stairs and past Bobby, bursting into the main house. Bobby turned to stop him, leaving the way free for Sam to follow.

“Dean, she’s okay,” Bobby yelled, standing between the muzzle of Dean’s gun and a pale, sweet-faced young woman maybe about Dean’s age. “I swear, she’s okay. You think I didn’t check?”

“Cas says she’s got no heartbeat,” Dean growled, clearly searching for a shot that wouldn’t take Bobby out too. “That ain’t ‘okay’, Bobby.”

“You have been resurrected by supernatural forces,” Cas pointed out as he strode to Dean’s side and pointed the gun towards the floor with no effort at all. “You are fine.”

Dean looked at him incredulously. “That was you. That’s different.”

“How?” Gabriel asked. He had taken up residence on the couch and looked like he was about an inch from snapping up a bowl of popcorn. He was grinning, clearly enjoying playing devil’s advocate (which definitely needed a better term these days). “How is Cassie bringing you back any different from what’s going on here?”

Bobby looked baffled by the turn of events, and Sam couldn’t really blame him: no-one would have expected Cas to take anyone’s side but Dean’s, and Gabriel never took anyone’s side. Sam knew, because he knew Gabriel well enough, that Gabriel wasn’t really on Bobby’s side here – he was eyeing Mrs Singer far too much for that to be the case – but from Bobby’s perspective, it would definitely look like he was.

“Come on! I am totally different to… to…” He relinquished the gun to Cas and waved a hand towards Mrs Singer.

“Just because Cas did a slightly better job and you wound up with a heartbeat? Seems a bit vitalist to me.” Gabriel jumped up off the sofa and bound over to Mrs Singer. “Hi, I’m sorry about all the rudeness, Mrs Singer. I’m Gabriel; tall, dark and trench coat there is my brother Castiel; sasquatch here is Sam Winchester and the trigger happy moron is his brother Dean.”

 

.oOo.

 

Once everything settled and Karen went off to the kitchen to make a new pie or ten, Bobby broke out the Book of Revelation. Gabriel nodded and agreed that what was going on in Sioux Falls looked very much like Death’s handiwork to him, and that while Bobby was essentially right in that none of the prophecies spoke of the Rising being a bad thing, Death wasn’t one to hand out life willy-nilly, and maybe keeping an eye on the Risen wouldn’t be such a bad thing. And, he pointed out imperiously to Dean, these people were innocent (ish. But Clay Thompson was off the cards too, even if he had offed Benny Sutton) and no-one was to harm anyone unless shit started to go down, or they would have Gabriel to answer to. Even Dean wasn’t stupid enough to try to go toe-to-toe with an archangel without some serious backup. He knew Gabriel could finish him in the blink of an eye if he wanted to.

Bobby reluctantly gave Sam a list of those who had risen from the dead: twenty in total, including Karen. He warned them away from Owen Mills, the sheriff’s kid, because he didn’t want to draw too much attention, but said they could check out any of the others if it would shut Dean up about the dangers of zombies, since that’s what they clearly weren’t.

Cas and Dean took one half of the list, and Sam the other, while Gabriel set about both warding the house against the angels and trying to track down Death to find out exactly what was going on, since none of them seriously thought he had picked Sioux Falls by accident. They left with instructions from Karen to be back by six for supper. Dean gave her a terse smile and kicked Cas when he tried to object that he didn’t eat (the whole thing with Famine had put him off the idea). Sam liked to think he was more gracious about it, because as good as Gabriel’s food was, there was something to be said for a home-cooked meal, and he was sure that Karen Singer, alive or dead, was a much better cook than Bobby or Dean.

And by six, even Dean was forced to admit that things weren’t looking so bad on the zombie front. They all seemed to be behaving themselves; some even working and contributing to society once more. Sam had seen Owen Mills out with his father after school and, except for the pallor of his skin, the kid looked just like any other kid. Owen had been in the park with other kids his age, playing tag and grinning just as much as all the rest of them. Old Ezra Jones wasn’t looking too hot but, according to her husband, she had been sick for a little while before she died and this was just the same. Maybe it would be worth asking Gabriel if he could put the old lady to rest once more, to save her suffering? Sam was okay with people like Owen Mills and Karen Singer being brought back – those who had died young and not lived a full life – but to bring back an old, sick lady didn’t seem right to him.

The meal Karen served up was exceptional, tasty and healthy and not swimming in fat like their usual fare. There was more than enough pie to satisfy both Dean and Gabriel, and Sam volunteered himself and Gabriel to wash up while Karen relaxed. This earned him a deeply suspicious look from everyone, which Sam understood since both Gabriel and Cas could clean the dishes with a mere thought. As soon as the kitchen doors slid shut, Gabriel’s gaze softened into something more caring.

“What did you see that you don’t want to tell the others?”

He explained, hesitantly, unsure of how Gabriel would take the request. This wasn’t some abusive asshole, or a murderer; it was a little old lady who had probably never hurt anyone in her life. But Gabriel got it. He jumped up onto the worktop and pulled Sam into a gentle, tender kiss that eased out all the uncertainty Sam had been feeling.

“We’ll go talk to her tonight,” he vowed as he held Sam close. “I’ll do what I can, but Death is older and stronger than me. If he doesn’t like it, I won’t be able to help.”

“Just try,” Sam asked, his voice low so that it didn’t carry into the den. “Because this isn’t fair.”

“The world ain’t fair, Sammikins. We wouldn’t be here if it was. I would be able to grab every single dickbag before they hurt anyone, there would be no monsters, and good people would live their lives in peace. Kids would be happy all the time and not get sick, and my brothers wouldn’t be such colossal tools. But that’s what we’re fighting for, right? Our shitty, imperfect, unfair world, chock-full of monsters and free will?”

Sam punched Gabriel in the shoulder. It was gentle; wouldn’t even hurt him if he was human.

“Dick.”

“Yep.” He clicked his fingers and the dishes were not only done, but put away much more neatly than Sam ever would have managed. “Now, let’s go see your old lady, see if we can help her pass back over.”

 

.oOo.

 

As it turned out, Mrs Jones has welcomed her death with open arms the first time around and her husband, although heartbroken, had been grateful that she was no longer in any pain. When Gabriel explained exactly who he was, and that she wasn’t going to go to hell for wishing either of her lives away, they both cried with relief. Gabriel was careful to emphasise that because Ezra’s second life was something supernatural, he was going to try and release her, but he couldn’t make any promises.

He was so gentle and caring with the elderly couple that Sam’s heart ached. This was the Gabriel that he wished the rest of the world could see instead of the jokey and occasionally nasty Trickster. Sam knew that Gabriel could be like this, because this was the side of his personality that generally only he got to see because it was the side that was reverent and loving in the bedroom. It was the side that had come out just after Gabriel had come back from his time-travelling nightmare, and when Sam had been detoxing from the demon blood. It was the times that Gabriel most resembled the angel Sam had imagined him to be as a child. This was the Gabriel he could imagine being an older brother to Cas, being the angel of childbirth.

They withdrew to the kitchen to give Mr and Mrs Jones time to say their goodbyes to each other. They sat quietly, with Gabriel perched on Sam’s knee, just holding each other. Sam was horribly, painfully aware that one day, Gabriel was going to be in the place of Mr Jones, having to let go of Sam. They could pretend it wasn’t the case, but moments like this made it all the more obvious. Moments when the fragility of human life was made apparent to them, and Sam knew it shook Gabriel more than he was willing to admit because he couldn’t follow Sam, whichever way his soul was destined to go.

Mr Jones barely batted an eyelid at their closeness when he came in.

“She’s ready.”

Gabriel slid down and followed him back to the lounge, where Mrs Jones watched with eyes that shone with tears. Sam kept a respectful distance.

“Hey,” Gabriel said as he perched himself on the side of the bed. He gently wiped the tears from her cheeks. “What’s this? Are you absolutely sure about this?”

She nodded, her eyes desperate and pleading, and she grabbed his hand as if she was afraid that maybe he had changed his mind.

“I’m not going anywhere, sweetheart,” Gabriel said soothingly. “I just wanted to be sure.”

He leaned over and pressed a kiss to her forehead. Immediately, she gave a shuddering breath and relaxed back into the pillows. Her hand slumped, and Gabriel lay it carefully back onto the covers.

“Be at peace, my child,” he whispered softly.

“That was cheating,” a mild voice said from the corner of the room. Sam whirled to find a pale, skeletal man dressed in a black suit sitting in an old, forgotten armchair. His dark eyes were on Gabriel.

“She was in pain,” he countered, eyeing the newcomer warily. “And you let me help her.”

Sam noticed that Mr Jones wasn’t moving: there was a tear halfway down his cheek, immobile. The clock had stopped ticking. One or the other of the supernatural beings had stopped time, and since Sam was still aware, it was probably Gabriel.

“I wanted to see if you would get involved,” the thin man said. “This isn’t your fight, Gabriel.”

Gabriel’s expression flickered to curious. “And you aren’t exactly here by choice,” he countered. A wave of his hand revealed a spectral silver chain looping around Death’s wrists (because who else could this possibly be, really?). “Darling Luci made you his bitch.”

Death scowled and Sam took an involuntary step backwards. Pissing Death off seemed like a really bad idea to him. Maybe if you were immortal it didn’t seem so bad, but with Sam’s mortal perspective, it appeared to be somewhat suicidal.

“Your brother is playing a dangerous game,” Death said. “The very fact you have taken action here makes me believe you want no part of it. Michael would simply have allowed Lucifer’s plan to come to fruition, to see what would happen.”

“You mean, see how long the tethers on their souls last before they snap?” Gabriel demanded. “Because that’s what’s going to happen, isn’t it? They’ll snap back to wherever they’re supposed to be and leave twenty hungry animated corpses behind.”

“Nineteen, now,” Death corrected. “But yes. Samuel, it may interest you to know that Karen Singer has the strongest hold on hers; much, _much_ stronger than any of the others, at Lucifer’s request. She is to deliver a message to her husband, which is ultimately for you: he grows tired of your refusal to cooperate.”

Death’s attention was uncomfortable to say the least. Sam could feel his palms grow clammy at the mere mention of his name, let alone Death’s message for him.

“Luci ain’t getting what he wants,” Gabriel said fiercely, moving to Sam’s side. “Sammy’s going to keep right on saying no, aren’t you?”

“Oh, how touching.” That was full of sarcasm, and Death looked a little nauseated as Gabriel grabbed Sam’s hand tightly.

“We need your help,” Sam blurted out. “With Lucifer.”

Death raised his hands, rattling the slender chain between his wrists and ankles. “I can’t do _anything_ to assist you, no matter what my thoughts on the matter.”

There was a look of disdain on his face that spoke eloquently about what he actually thought of Lucifer and his captivity.

“What you need, more than me, is my ring,” Death added, nodding to his outstretched hand and the white-stoned ring adorning it. “Mine and those of my brothers. I believe you already have two.”

Death didn’t seem altogether pissed about that. He didn’t really seem bothered at all, actually. He was just so matter-of-fact about it. Maybe ‘brother’ meant something different to him than it did to Sam, or even to Cas and Gabriel. Maybe the Horsemen’s concept of family was different.

“Well, go on,” Death prodded impatiently. “I have a soul to guide back home.”

Remembering suddenly what Castiel had said about the rings not being for the angels, and how weird Gabriel had started to seem just from holding War’s, Sam stepped forwards. He was very hesitant about reaching out, but Death just sat there, his gaze almost gentle as he watched Sam. His hands were cool, but not as cold as Sam would have expected, and the ring slid free easily. It was a cool, heavy weight in Sam’s hand.

“Upstairs,” Gabriel said softly and somewhat incongruously. It took Sam a second or two to work out he was referring to old Ezra’s soul.

“Of course,” Death assured him. “Be sure you are prepared to do whatever you need to in order to end this; whatever sacrifice needs to be made.”

Sam nodded. “Yeah. Definitely.”

“Be sure, Samuel. And beware: Lucifer will notice you playing games if you try _this_ with any more of them.”

And with that, Death was gone and time resumed. Without missing a beat, Gabriel pressed a kiss to Old Man Jones’ bald head and muttered a blessing Sam wasn’t entirely sure was of any Abrahamic derivation before withdrawing quietly and taking Sam with him.

It was all so surreal, and Sam would have questioned whether or not it had happened but for the weight of that opal ring in his hand.

“Nineteen walking time bombs.”

Gabriel sounded downright miserable, and Sam couldn’t blame him. They couldn’t draw attention to the fact that Gabriel was here, otherwise Lucifer might suspect they were up to something. He, nor the other angels, could begin to suspect what they were planning, because they couldn’t afford for anyone to try and put a stop to it, for them to throw up so much protection around Pestilence that he became unreachable. Sam had no doubt that the angels would do it if they discovered the truth, just to keep this stupid apocalypse on track. Death had allowed them this one, this sick old lady who didn’t deserve to be left in pain at Lucifer’s whim: he wouldn’t allow more of the zombies to be killed before their time, and Sam couldn’t bring himself to off any of them himself before they became monsters. Not after meeting so many of them today. Not after seeing little Owen Mills playing so innocently with his friends.

“How the hell do we warn them?” Sam asked. “This whole town is pretty pro-zombie right now. No-one will believe us.”

Gabriel shrugged. “We load up and keep watching. Nothing else we can do right now. We don’t know when they’re going to turn.”

Sam realised the instant they appeared on Bobby’s porch that even he wouldn’t believe them, because he didn’t want to. And why would he? Karen’s return was a blessing for him; an absolution for letting her down, for killing her. He had lived the last thirty or so years with that over his head, and now she was in his home looking after him like nothing had changed. What wouldn’t Sam give to see his mom, or Jess, even in the same shitty situation? Even with Gabriel at his side, because as awkward as that would be, Jess would always be part of his heart; his first proper love.

“Let them enjoy it,” Gabriel whispered, his hand paused on the door handle. “We can’t do anything more for them tonight.”

Sam took a deep breath and nodded. “Yeah. You’re right. But…”

“I’ll keep an eye out, and so will Cassie. Come on, let’s go to bed.”

 

.oOo.

 

Gabriel kissed him all hard and desperate the second Sam stepped off the basement stairs, not even back in the apartment yet. He had held it together well in public, and even kept things light and jokey in front of Bobby and Karen, but Sam could feel the tremors in the hands that threaded tightly into his hair. He had allowed a lot of himself to be seen this evening, and as much as Sam might wish he would do it more, Gabriel had spent too long in hiding, too long as just Loki, to be comfortable with it.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured against Gabriel’s lips, holding him tightly. “I’m right here.”

Gabriel relaxed his death grip and dropped his head onto Sam’s shoulder; something he wouldn’t have been able to do had he not still been stood on the first step. “Take me home, Sam.”

Sam lifted him easily and Gabriel obligingly wrapped his legs around Sam’s waist. The door to the apartment opened before they reached it, and from there it was only a few steps to the bedroom they had made their own over the last week. Gabriel was kissing him again, trembling and frantic, as Sam lowered them both to the bed. Against his belly, he could feel how desperate Gabriel was for this, how much he needed this. Sam knew how he felt; before Gabriel, after Jess, the only time Sam had ever felt that need for sex was after they had lost someone during a hunt. It wasn’t that he found hunting a turn-on, or death, but that there was something in him that equated sex with life.

He unbuttoned Gabriel’s shirt slowly, oh so slowly, and carefully slid it and his jacket from his shoulders. Sam loved the smoothness of Gabriel’s skin, could spend hours worshipping it in the moments Gabriel was all desperate and clingy like this instead of the domineering side that came out when Sam needed it to. He lowered his mouth to suck a mark into Gabriel’s skin, just above where his collar would sit, if the bruise lasted until morning. Gabriel groaned and writhed under him, throwing his head back to expose more of his throat to Sam. Sam took the blatant invitation and sucked another mark, at the junction of his collarbone, before moving down to bite down on a nipple.

Gabriel yelled and bucked up against Sam. He was too desperate to draw out the foreplay for too long, and Sam was okay with that. With one hand, he reached over and grabbed the lube from the nightstand. With the other, he unfastened his jeans. He kicked his boots off and worked his jeans off as quickly as he could, hoping that Gabriel would get the message and dispose of his own pants one way or another.

He did, but as Sam reached behind himself with lubed-up fingers, Gabriel caught his hand. His eyes were bright and wild.

“Me,” he said. “I want… I need… Sam, I…”

Sam kissed him, to shut him up, to show his understanding. Gabriel had never asked for this before, never been able to give enough of himself before. Sam didn’t know whether it was allowing himself to be the archangel for a change, or meeting with Death, or ending old Ezra’s suffering, but he wasn’t going to argue too much. That said:

“You sure this is what you want?”

“Yes. Please?”

Sam circled a finger around the pucker of Gabriel’s ass, drawing a whimper from him. There was no resistance as he tested; his finger slid right in and Gabriel sighed with relief. His eyes fluttered closed as his whole body seemed to welcome Sam in. Sam worked a second finger in and crooked them, dragging them until Gabriel gave a shout. His body jerked and his cock pulsed, leaking pre-come copiously. Sam rubbed his palm over the head of Gabriel’s flushed cock, coating his hand in the slick fluid and started out a lazy handjob as a counterpoint to his fingers.

Gabriel’s hands fisted the sheets, his breathing picking up as writhed beneath Sam.

“Dammit, stop teasing,” he gasped. “I won’t break.”

Sam slid a third finger in and found Gabriel as ready and welcoming as he had been for the first two, rolling his hips back to take as much as possible.

“Come on, Sammy!”

Gabriel would make Sam wait if he begged; he would string out the teasing for many more minutes. But Gabriel had the patience of a… saint seemed the wrong word, really. Sam wasn’t patient at all: that gorgeous, pert ass was swallowing his fingers easily and his dick was aching to get a piece of that action.

Hastily, Sam lubed up his cock and ran the head around the red, sensitive rim. Gabriel whimpered in frustration, before sighing with relief as Sam finally pushed in. He grabbed Gabriel’s thighs and pulled his ass flush.

“Yesss,” Gabriel hissed.

“Pillow,” Sam suggested, getting a glare from his lover before there was a snap and an insta-pillow appeared to support Gabriel’s hips. With a smile, Sam relaxed and leaned over to kiss Gabriel, who grabbed at him hungrily, as if his very life, at that moment, depended on kissing Sam.

Gabriel was a surprisingly quiet and intense bottom. They moved together as naturally as they did any other time, with Gabriel taking everything Sam could give with a kind of desperate ferocity. He clung to Sam as he came, bright white and shaking and pulling Sam right over with him as his grace seemed to touch Sam’s very soul.

Gabriel’s glow was contained to just his eyes, turning them into molten gold, when Sam decided that “Wow,” was an appropriate summation of his feelings. Gabriel chuckled and effortlessly rolled Sam onto his side, cleaned them both up and insinuated himself into the space under Sam’s chin. His skin was hot and dry against Sam’s chest. One leg wound up and over his, as possessive as the hand in his hair. It was comforting to know that Gabriel wanted to keep him so close, and Sam wrapped his arms more tightly around Gabriel’s unfeasibly and unfairly skinny frame, hoping to let him know that Sam wanted him too, more than he would probably ever be able to say out loud.

As he was drifting off, he heard Gabriel murmur: “Definitely better than the sex dolls.”

 

 

Sam was alone when he woke up, without even a feather as a token, a symbol that Gabriel had been and snuck out in the night. He thought, after… Had Gabriel panicked after all, after giving so much of himself to Sam? Letting go like that? Had Gabriel finally snapped, just like Sam had been afraid he would? It had been Gabriel’s first time with a real person, after all, rather than one of the flesh creations he had dubbed ‘sex dolls’.

He sat with his head in his hands for a moment, willing himself not to panic or worry. Gabriel just didn’t sleep, and that was a fact. Watching Sam get however many hours of downtime his body demanded of him wasn’t the most thrilling thing ever, and that was why Sam had never really minded before now that Gabriel would disappear in the middle of the night to go do whatever Trickster gods did to deserving assholes. It was just…

There were nineteen undead people walking around Sioux Falls, and that was what Sam needed to focus on right now. Forget anything else, whatever personal dilemmas he and Gabriel may or may not be having; that was the important thing. Sam forced himself to get out of bed, and he grabbed his jeans and tee from the floor. Pulling the clothing on to at least make himself decent, he headed out of the apartment and upstairs in search of coffee and sustenance.

He breathed a sigh of relief before he got either: apparently his over-active imagination had gotten the better of him, because Gabriel was in the den, surrounded by stacks of Bobby’s books. Cas was there too, staring at the computer as if it had personally offended him, and so was Karen, who greeted him with a mug of coffee and a smile.

“They’ve been here all night,” she said softly, as if she didn’t want to disturb them. “Your Gabriel certainly likes his pie, doesn’t he?”

“He likes anything sweet,” Sam said. He took a sip of the coffee, which was a million times better than they usually got from Bobby’s. It tasted like the filter had been cleaned at some point in recent history, which was a novelty both here and in the places they tended to frequent on the road. “Do you know what they’re looking for?”

She gave him an odd look. “They’re watching me,” she said. There was no accusation in it, just acceptance. “They’re making a good show of everything else, but they’re waiting to see if I’ll turn.”

“Cas is trying to track Pestilence,” Gabriel said without looking up. “He’s learned to use the internet, crappy as Bobby’s connection is, and he’s a strategist: he’ll find it easier to work out what he’s up to, what his endgame is. I’m trying to cobble together a spell for you to see me.”

Sam stepped over the pile of books and turned Gabriel’s head to him, pulling him into a kiss. He couldn’t think of any other way to express how much that meant to him. Yes, they might have been watching Karen too, but they wouldn’t have wasted the night just doing that, not with so much else still going on. Karen and the rest of the zombies were important right now, but Pestilence still needed finding and stopping, and then Lucifer. And even in the middle of all that, Gabriel still thought it was important to do something just because it would make Sam happy.

He rested his forehead against Gabriel’s, just enjoying being there with him. They had been together, without a break, for more than two weeks now, and Sam was rapidly realising it wasn’t enough: he hated that Gabriel might disappear again one day, even if it was only for a short time. He hated that he would never be able to be with Gabriel forever, that he couldn’t be what Gabriel needed from him. But he was determined to be what Gabriel needed right now, so that he would stay. Selfish, maybe, but Sam wasn’t sure he could stand to find himself alone again. Not now.

His stomach rumbled and Gabriel laughed, breaking the moment. “Come on, champ; let’s get you fed. You too, kid.”

Cas looked up sharply. “I am not hungry, Gabriel.”

“Castiel, conserve your grace and feed your damn vessel, okay?”

Oh, so that was what the eating was about. Sam hadn’t been sure. It made a lot of sense, really, because keeping a human body alive and healthy had to be a drain on resources that Cas could probably put to better use elsewhere while he still had some grace left.

Cas gave Gabriel a truly wounded look and reluctantly got up and moved over to the table.

“Please excuse my brother, Karen; he doesn’t mean to be rude,” Gabriel was saying. “He’s just not used to the idea of needing to eat yet. It’s all kinds of messy and gross when you’re a bit too aware of it.”

Karen looked around from the griddle with that sunny smile she always seemed to have. “I understand. I don’t need to eat any more, and it’s as disturbing that way round as I imagine it is for Castiel. I’ll make you some pancakes anyway, dear,” she added, addressing Cas, “but don’t feel you have to eat them if you don’t want to.”

“I should,” Cas admitted, taking a seat at the table. “Gabriel is right: my vessel is capable of fuelling itself, I just need to… get over it.”

Sam snorted into his coffee. Karen chuckled and Gabriel looked positively delighted that Cas would say something so very human.

“Sam, would you go tell Bobby and Dean that breakfast is nearly ready?” Karen asked after a couple of minutes. “They’re outside, working on one of the cars. They should just have enough time to wash up.”

That explained why he hadn’t seen his brother yet. Dean hardly slept, so it was unusual for him not to be up before Sam. Him helping out with the junkers made a lot more sense than Dean still being asleep. He headed out, and found them both bent over the engine compartment of a rusty old Chevy, probably salvaging parts for the Impala.

“Karen’s making pancakes,” he called out. “She says they’re nearly ready.”

“Great, I’m starving!” Dean’s head came up right away. Bobby was a touch slower, grumbling as something objected. Looked like a hip from the way he limped slightly. Gabriel might have fixed his spine, but Bobby wasn’t exactly a spring chicken any more.

 

.oOo.

 

It was late in the afternoon, with them all on edge and watching the zombies like hawks while pretending not to, that something clicked in Sam’s head; something Death had said that had been nagging at him ever since and he couldn’t think why.

“Karen’s different to the rest.”

Gabriel sighed and continued his surveillance of the play park: Owen and Sean Mills were there, as was Clay Thompson and his daughter, Sarah. “Not enough.”

“Death said she had a better grasp on her soul than the rest. That sounds different to me.”

Gabriel gave him a sideways glance, as if maybe the conversation might be worthy of his attention after all. “What are you thinking?”

“Cas brought Dean back with a hell of a lot less to work with,” Sam observed carefully. “And it’s not like we’re talking about killing another one of the zombies.”

That definitely got Gabriel’s full attention. “No, you’re talking about completely changing the state of play for the one Lucifer cares the most about.”

“It’s not like he’s here watching. Is he?”

That was a sudden and very worrying thought. Sam was positive Gabriel would have mentioned it before (and been very much elsewhere), but it set a little thread of panic off.

“Nah, he’s probably half a planet away by now if he’s got any sense. He’d know if we mess up the status quo too badly, but he’s not watching.” Gabriel sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “But this is Death’s power, Sam. It’s very, very different to mine. He let me release Ezra Jones.”

Sam grinned. “There’s no way he would have said that about Karen if he didn’t think we would use it. And…” He held up Death’s ring. “We have this too. Source of Death’s power.”

Gabriel snorted. “Not for him, not like it is for the other Horsemen, but it’s powerful in its own right.”

He had grown thoughtful towards the end, with a little frown. His hand was half stretched out as if to take the ring, but he was stopping himself. “Maybe. Maybe. I’d probably need Cas to ground me, which means you and Deano keeping an eye on the other eighteen solo.”

Sam pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “We hunted without you guys for years,” he assured Gabriel. “Not that we’re not grateful for the backup, but I’m sure we can manage without you for a couple hours.”

 

.oOo.

 

Karen had seemed a little uncertain when Gabriel explained the plan to her, but Bobby looked so quietly desperate that she got up and tugged gently at Bobby’s hand, excusing them as she led him away, out into the back yard, to talk away from prying ears. Of course, Gabriel and Cas would have no problem eavesdropping if they felt like it, but if they did listen in, they didn’t say anything.

Bobby and Karen came back after over fifteen minutes, hand in hand and ready to start. Karen’s head was held high, but it was clear that she was trembling, her nerves getting the better of her. It probably didn’t help that Gabriel had been as honest as he had been with Ezra Jones about his ability to counteract Death’s power. Gabriel had seemed a little more hopeful this time, but he still clearly hadn’t wanted to get their hopes up just in case he couldn’t manage it after all.

In the end, it was Cas who ended up wearing the ring and channelling its power through his grace to Gabriel (“I am a soldier, Gabriel: I am much more accustomed to death’s touch than you. I am also much less of a liability should something go awry.”). Dean looked in no way happy about the situation, but reluctantly agreed that his time would be better spent watching the others, because it ran with their luck that things would go to shit while the two angels were busy bringing Karen all the way back to life rather than just halfway.

And, of course, they had been right to be sceptical about their luck. It started to happen not long after they got back into town. Owen Mills was the first to turn; falling sick at the park and being taken home. A sick zombie didn’t sound good to either Sam or Dean, and they followed the Millses home, just in case things went bad. Awful as it was, they couldn’t have asked for a better first victim, really, because the sheriff just seemed to get it after seeing her son eating her husband. She managed to pull things together and stow the horrendous crap she would need to process later in order to help save her town. They gathered people in the jail, armed them, explained that, actually, the zombie movies had something right and headshots were the way forward. It had worked on little Owen, anyway; something that would probably fuel Dean’s nightmares for a good long while, no matter how necessary it had been.

Once people were armed and informed, they set out and quickly realised where the undead were heading. And these definitely weren’t your shambling, uncoordinated dead: they were fucking scary and fast, and they were heading to Bobby’s. Of course they were, because this was all about Bobby in the end, because it was all a twisted plot to get Sam’s attention. Whether Bobby died or just lost himself because of Karen, this was all about taking Bobby out of the equation and Sam wasn’t going to let that happen. No way was Sam losing another parent to Lucifer’s insane conspiracy.

They raced back to the scrapyard with Sheriff Mills in tow, Dean driving and she and Sam hanging out the windows, taking aim. They took out two on the way there – a man and a woman – and found another six roaming the junkyard. Which was creepy as all hell at night when it was crawling with zombies that were trying to eat your stomach. Sam had never felt uncomfortable among the junkers before, but he sure was now as the three of them were faced with the undead appearing from the deep shadows and attacking. Sam found himself on his back with two of them crawling over him, desperately trying to shove and kick them away, to get his gun under them so he could shoot them. It was Jody who rescued him in the end, taking one out and giving Sam a chance to shoot the other one.

She was stony-faced as she helped him up. It was a coping mechanism Sam had seen before, and would probably see again. It wasn’t bad; she was functional, after all, and would probably remain so until the job was done, but afterwards was going to be a complete disaster for her. It probably didn’t help that these were all people she knew; people she was sworn to protect.

They took a minute to reload before taking on the house, and they could hear the distinctive report of a shotgun before they even opened the door. The scene that greeted them was both awesome and horrifying at the same time. Karen, flush with life, had the shotgun and a wicked good aim; Bobby had his revolver, and Cas and Gabriel both had their blades out. Sam watched, open-mouthed, as Gabriel stabbed a grey-faced, rabid woman in the eye. Jody just took aim without hesitation and took out one of the few that was left, as did Karen and Bobby.

It was over within a matter of seconds of their arrival. Sam could see nine corpses littering the floor of the den, which accounted for all of the people who had risen by his count. But not everyone still standing was unscathed.

“Gabriel? What happened?”

Gabriel looked up at him with tired eyes as Sam grabbed him to inspect the bleeding gash on his left arm.

“Cas winged me as he stabbed Clay Thompson in the face,” he said dismissively. “I’ll be fine in a few hours. Check out what we did, though.”

He sounded so proud as gestured to Karen. She looked embarrassed to be the centre of attention, especially as Jody was staring blatantly and distrustfully at her; something Sam couldn’t blame her for since Karen was supposed to be dead. Since Karen blatantly wasn’t dead when Jody’s son and husband were. Sam couldn’t even begin to imagine exactly what Jody was thinking, whether or not she was going to get through this latest development without breaking down.

“You did good,” Sam assured Gabriel, giving him a tight, reassuring hug, but with his eyes still on the women. “You feeling okay, Karen?”

Karen nodded to him. “Never better, Sam, thank you. I just wish they had been able to do that for everyone.”

Sam glanced at Jody again, then the dead bodies at their feet. “Yeah, me too.”

“Sheriff? Why don’t you come sit down away from all this for a moment?” Karen took Jody by the elbow and led her into the kitchen. “Boys? Can you do something about this while I get some the sheriff some sweet tea and some pie?”

“Would you get some for Gabriel too, Karen?” Cas asked, eyeing his brother carefully. “He has exerted more of his strength than he would care to admit.”

Karen gave the most lovely smile, and Sam found it so, so easy to see why Bobby had fallen for this beautiful, kind-hearted woman. “Of course, Cas. You’ll need to watch your helping around this one, Sheriff: he’s a fiend for sweet things and you need the sugar right now. And Castiel? Don’t forget to give that ring back.”

Cas stiffened, but nodded. Karen gave him a stern look, and he took a hold of the ring Sam only now noticed on his left hand. He hesitated only momentarily before sliding it from his finger and holding it out to Dean. Dean snatched it from him quickly, and all the tension seemed to drain from Cas with that one simple exchange, the instant the ring was away from him and with someone he knew would keep it safe. Karen, seemingly satisfied, slid the doors closed on the scene of devastation, presumably to keep Jody’s mind from going into overload. The sheriff was dropping into shock, and the more they could do to avoid making it worse, the better it would be for her.

“You okay, Cas?” Dean asked, his voice gruff with concern as he stashed the ring in the zipped pocket on the inside of his jacket, along with the other two.

“I am fine, Dean,” Cas said. He knelt and picked up the body of an ex-zombie easily. “Death’s ring did not affect me as much as I believe it would have done to Gabriel.”

Dean’s frown spoke volumes of disbelief.

“I am fine, Dean. We have a job to do here.”

He strode out, leaving Dean with no choice but to get on with clearing the house. “Come on, Sam; let’s get these outside. Bobby, you still got your stash of wood?”

Bobby rolled his eyes. “What am I, an amateur?”

“Sam?”

Sam blinked and tore his eyes away from the blood on his hand. Gabriel’s blood. Not a lot – barely a few drops, but was it enough? Would he be able to see Gabriel’s wings again for a little while?

“Uh, yeah. Coming.”


	3. Pestilence

It took them a couple of hours to round up all the bodies, including those of the zombies’ victims: twenty-three in total. Instead of Bobby’s scrapyard, they built the pyre in the graveyard. It seemed more fitting; it wasn’t like they were burning monsters this time. This time it was people; families, in the case of the Thompsons. And they didn’t really hide what they were doing: the people of Sioux Falls had been through something unbelievable over the last few days and coped well until things had gone wrong. Those that needed some closure came by and paid their respects.

Jody coped amazingly well, between checking that everyone was okay and faking death records for the newly deceased and fielding the occasional call from the press and creating a new identity for Karen and the whole supernatural thing in general. Sam thought that she was probably doing and thinking about everything else to avoid dealing with the empty house, but if it was working for her then it was working. It wasn’t like Sam hadn’t employed that exact same strategy himself when Jess had died. Sam wasn’t sure how well he would have handled things had he not gone on the road with Dean, had he had to go home to their apartment every night after classes, see the place where Jess had lived and laughed and died. He honestly wasn’t sure how Jody did it. Maybe it was crashing at Bobby and Karen’s kitchen table, her face in a lore book, every other night and just not facing the house, even though Gabriel had cleaned it up good and proper.

And as things began to return to normal for Sioux Falls, the angels started to resume their not-human things – Cas hunting down God, Gabriel doing who-knew-what – the hunters decided they needed to find Pestilence, sooner rather than later, before someone put the pieces together about the plan; in case God had told someone else about the key to the Cage and the angels tried to stop them. They hadn’t wanted to get Karen or Jody involved with them being so new to the idea of hunting, let alone the life itself, but as so often happens with these things, they eventually insinuated themselves into the search. And, given her history in law enforcement, it probably shouldn’t have come as a surprise that it was Jody who managed to connect the dots and made the connection that probably should have been obvious to the rest of them.

“You boys are looking for a thing that causes sickness?” she demanded one evening, hands on her hips and scowling, still in full uniform from her shift at the station.

“Yeah?” Sam ventured, glancing at Dean and Bobby in confusion.

“You been hiding under a rock? Haven’t you heard of swine flu?”

“Yeah, but…”

“But nothing, Dean Winchester. ‘Pestilence’ means any disease, not just your Rage virus thing. CDC are investigating an outbreak in Ocotillo, in southern California right now, and – and here’s the omen-y part – there are reports of the statues in the town weeping.”

Jody suddenly had the full attention of all three men, and had gone from lecturing mom-mode to smug pretty darn quick. She pulled a bunch of papers from her jacket and tossed them onto Bobby’s desk. From where he was sat, Sam could see they were print-outs of articles from a local newspaper. Bobby looked them over and gave a nod that Sam knew was all good. He had hit Gabriel’s speed dial before things fully registered.

“Nice work,” Bobby said gruffly to Jody while Sam was telling Gabriel to get home, and he could hear Dean doing the same thing from the sofa. The angels appeared in a flurry of displaced air and rustling feathers, making Jody yelp and press her hand to her heart; Gabriel landed directly in Sam’s lap, ghostly wings draping lazily all over the place as they settled, and Cas was standing next to Dean a second or so later, with the phone still pressed to his ear.

“I swear you do that on purpose,” Jody scolded Gabriel in particular. “You’ll give me a heart attack.”

Gabriel gave her a smile that was oddly lacking in general mischief. “I’d fix you right back up again if I did. So, what’s the biz, kids?”

“Jody reckons she’s found Pestilence,” Dean said, stashing his phone back in his pocket, then reaching out and dragging Cas right into his personal space.

“Bunch of swine flu cases in southern California,” Jody told them, much more gently than she had originally reported. Maybe she just didn’t think the angels would have noticed something so innocuous as flu, so she was being nicer to them. Or maybe she just didn’t want to piss them off. “Couple that with some omens and it sounds a lot like your guy.”

Gabriel looked over at the articles on Bobby’s desk approvingly. “Surprisingly low key for Pestilence,” he said, “but looks promising.” He craned his neck to see the image attached to the statue report. “Heh, weeping angels. Don’t blink.”

Sam snorted, but he was the only one: everyone else looked blank, except Jody who had a very peculiar, frozen expression.

“Doctor Who? Anyone?”

“Nerds,” Dean said affectionately, rolling his eyes.

“Is that still on?” Karen asked from the kitchen door. “I used to like that.”

“Owen loved it,” Jody said quietly, looking at no-one. “I didn’t like him watching it, but Sean would sit and watch it with him all the time.”

It was the first time she had talked about her family since the day the zombies had turned.

“Tell me about him,” Karen said, grabbing Jody’s elbow and steering her gently into the kitchen. “I always wanted children myself, but Bobby didn’t think he would be a good father. What bullcrap that turned out to be; look at how great his boys turned out. But I got possessed before we properly talked and, well, you know what happened there.”

Bobby looked down at the papers, flushing. Sam prepared himself to have to stop Gabriel saying or doing something to make that embarrassing situation worse, but his gaze was oddly soft, thoughtful even, his feathers sleek, and Sam gave up even trying to anticipate Gabriel’s moods any more, because it seemed like he was losing that almost viciously jokey edge to his personality the longer he stuck around. Dean, for his part, was tapping furiously at the computer, eyes firmly on the screen. The back of his neck was flushed red, although whether because of the compliment or because of Karen’s easy acceptance of him as ‘Bobby’s son’, Sam couldn’t tell. Dean wasn’t good at dealing with any kind of praise about his character at all, and least of all from someone he deemed to be important to him in some way.

Cas, for his part, didn’t seem to understand what all the fuss was about and looked to Gabriel for guidance. After a moment, something seemed to dawn on him, and he turned his attention back to Dean. Instead of saying something direct, like he would usually do, he surprised Sam by leaning over Dean’s shoulder, one hand landing lightly on the opposite shoulder very naturally, to read the computer screen and ask softly:

“Is Jody correct? Has she located Pestilence?”

It was probably the single best thing he could have said, because it gave Dean and Bobby something tangible and useful to focus on; a distraction from something that Bobby definitely didn’t want airing in public, and Sam couldn’t really say that he blamed him for that. Although Sam did love the way that Karen’s easy chatter could relax a person almost immediately and get them to discuss things that needed to be discussed. Bobby had definitely picked a good one in her.

“But why go for swine flu when he’s got the Croatoan virus up his sleeve?” Dean was asking. “That just doesn’t make sense.”

“Who knows?” Gabriel said. “He could have gone for anything: Croatoan, Ebola, malaria, trypanosomiasis; literally anything.”

“War and Famine both started out in small areas to test out their capabilities,” Cas pointed out. “Perhaps this is Pestilence’s way of testing modern civilisation and its response to infection; something so innocuous we almost missed it.”

“And that’s why he’s the strategist and I’m not,” Gabriel said, looking so proud of his little brother. “CDC doing anything about it yet?”

Dean shrugged helplessly. “I need an interpreter for their website – it’s full of medical bullshit I haven’t heard in Doctor Sexy. Maybe one of you can take a look?”

Sam was so proud of Dean, actually asking for help for once. Brady had been pre-med back at Stanford, before he flaked and changed majors, but Sam hadn’t ever become fluent enough with the lingo that he could have helped Dean. They could handle emergency medicine and its terminology because of how much experience they had with it, but diseases and epidemiology? Nope.

“I’ll take a look,” Gabriel promised. 

 

.oOo.

 

As it turned out, the look turned out to be after their meal. Jody seemed to be a little calmer after talking to Karen, but both women’s eyes were red-rimmed as if they had been crying. No-one commented on it, which seemed to be the best thing, because it seemed that a good cry, no matter how little, had been exactly what Jody had needed. She was a lot less tense as soon as she realised that none of the men were going to call her on her weakness, and her sense of humour started to creep out for the first time as the evening went on.

Gabriel looked over the CDC reports while Sam and Dean washed the dishes (because apparently using mojo all the time was an ‘abuse of power’, but creating candy bars out of thin air was just fine and dandy), and reported back that there wasn’t all that much going on – the cases weren’t that bad, and the people who were the most sick were getting the appropriate treatment. The CDC were ramping up the pressure on the pharmaceutical companies to get their vaccines tested, but that was about it.

“Hold on,” Dean piped up. “No-one’s dying?”

Gabriel shrugged, which was a really weird manoeuvre when the wings got involved too, because it wasn’t like Gabriel was just tugging strings to make his vessel move in a way that looked socially acceptable: his whole being was doing it. And it still looked like a shrug.

“Not a soul,” he confirmed. “Yet, anyway, but it’s only a matter of time. I’d still be dismissing it as a coincidence it if it wasn’t for the weeping statues – nice catch, Jody.”

She nodded once in thanks.

“But you do believe that this is Pestilence’s handiwork?” Cas asked.

Gabriel shrugged again. “Probably. It’s worth a look.”

“Any idea where he’ll hit next?” Bobby asked, earning himself a disapproving glare from Karen. “What? I meant for them – I’m too old to be chasing after Horsemen.”

Gabriel gestured grandly around the room. “And this is where I yield the floor to the strategists and analysts. Grab a map, boys.”

Dean turned to dig out the appropriate map from Bobby’s huge stash, and Sam immediately set about clearing the desk so they could spread it out. After a moment, Cas joined him, lifting stacks of four or five books with ease.

Once they were ready, Gabriel read out the list of towns that had been struck, in order. Dean dutifully located and marked them on the map.

“Gabriel? You sure that’s the right order?” Sam asked, frowning at the plot.

“Yep. Why?”

“Come and see for yourself,” Cas said. “This makes no logical sense, if indeed Pestilence himself is the cause.”

“It looks natural,” Karen said softly, uncertainly, as Cas traced the route for Gabriel, showing it zig-zagging back and forth, crossing itself more than once. “Like people moving from town to town, not like someone doing it deliberately.”

“That’s what I’d do, if I wanted to stay below the radar,” Jody piped up. “I mean, why be obvious and draw attention to yourself if you’re the last Horseman standing?”

“Doesn’t help us, though,” Dean growled, staring at the points he had plotted. “Where the hell do we look for him?”

“Me and Cas can do that,” Gabriel pointed out, flexing his wings subtly. Sam would have thought he was showing off his strength, except that Dean couldn’t see them – only him and Cas. “We can check it out tonight. Should be easy enough to cover California in eight hours.”

Jody and Karen both looked shocked by that, and Sam supposed they just weren’t used to being around the angels yet. Or maybe the rest of them were becoming desensitised to the awe that Cas and Gabriel should inspire in them. It _should_ be impressive that two individuals could search such a huge area in such a short time, but Sam had seen Gabriel in particular do much more extraordinary things.

But Cas looked a little uncertain, and Sam was confused: maybe Cas was worried that his failure to find God meant he just wasn’t good at finding things? Who knew. But Gabriel stretched out a wing and draped it casually over Cas’ shoulders, kind of the same way Dean used to drape an arm over Cas’ shoulders, back when he was pretending they were just friends. It was about reassurance, and Cas gave Gabriel a little smile.

Jody got a call not long afterwards, and left them with dire warnings to call her and let her know what was going on. And, for some reason, after she left, Karen broke out an ancient Monopoly board, one that hadn’t been used since he and Dean were little kids (at least, Sam didn’t think so, and the sheer amount of dust Karen brushed from the box supported that). Dean rolled his eyes, but remained mercifully silent; Gabriel rubbed his hands together gleefully, which would have been terrifying if not for his covert feathers fluffing up; Bobby simply got up to grab some beers from the fridge.

As the board was set up at the kitchen table, Sam took the time to explain the objective, and the rules to Cas, which then of course led to an argument between Dean and Gabriel about deviations from the standard rules. Bobby put a stop to that by pointing out that he had taught the boys to play, using the rules Karen had taught him, and he was pretty sure that someone as clever as an archangel could keep up because they weren’t that hard: Free Parking pot applies, as does the actual Free Parking rule; and no damn annoying auctions.

Which then required Karen to explain to Cas that the ‘rules’ of Monopoly varied from home to home, because very few people actually played to the exact letter of the standard rules; a situation that was not only approved of but actively encouraged by the manufacturers. Cas, who had followed the rules his entire life until now, didn’t look as if he knew whether he should find it encouraging or disturbing that humans could so easily disregard the rules (and that they seemed determined to drag him down with them in their sinful shame).

“Ain’t free will wonderful?” Gabriel observed eventually, with a flourish of his hands as he plunked himself gracelessly down on a chair.

 

.oOo.

 

The game took an hour and a half before Cas was declared the winner. Dean grumbled good-naturedly about beginner’s luck and Cas tried to point out that he had made strategic errors that had lost him Park Place early on, and had allowed Cas to capitalise on his misfortune. Karen had come second, mostly due to a windfall at Free Parking just when she needed it, but she was a shrewd player too and didn’t gamble too much of her money away on property early on.

Karen dragged Bobby away at the first yawn, pausing at the door only to make sure that the game went away properly, because she didn’t want to find little green houses all over the kitchen come morning. Gabriel did it with a snap of his fingers as soon as she turned her back on them again, and turned to Sam.

“Fancy hitting the hay before me and Cas head off to California?”

“Fuck’s sake, Gabriel – could you be more subtle?” Dean asked with a groan.

“You mean like Karen was?” Gabriel retorted wickedly. Which had Sam’s libido take a total nose-dive, because as much as he loved Karen, and how happy Bobby had been the last few days, that was something he didn’t need to hear. He should be happy for Bobby, but… Sam imagined it was the same as the idea of your parents having sex.

“Thanks for that.”

“Any time, Deano. Come on, Sammy.”

Sam let Gabriel lead him downstairs and through their apartment door, mostly because he wanted to spend some time with Gabriel even if it wasn’t time spent having sex. He loved feeling those phantom wings around him as Gabriel either held him or snuggled into his side, and he wanted to make the most of it while he could still see and feel them.

As things turned out, Gabriel was still feeling decidedly amorous, and kissed and petted Sam’s body until he relaxed and began to respond. Sam was too relaxed, too heavy-limbed and heavy-eyed, to do anything other than enjoy Gabriel’s attention, to watch Gabriel’s hazy golden feathers stroke their tingling, ghostly paths over his arms and torso as Gabriel’s mouth slowly and skilfully eased him over the edge, then cradled him until he fell asleep.

 

.oOo.

 

“Hello, Sam.”

Sam froze. He knew that voice.

“Long time, no see.”

It _had_ been a while, and Sam had been grateful for every night he had slept soundly, not hearing that voice. He could happily not hear that voice again for the rest of eternity; the one that had chills running up and down his spine and sound so friendly at the same time.

“How did you manage to hide from me, Sam?”

Sam could guess, actually, now he thought about it, but there was no way he was giving that away.

“I suppose it doesn’t matter now,” Lucifer purred. “You slipped up with your warding tonight and we’re finally together again.”

They were in a non-descript den, and Lucifer was leaning casually against the back of the couch. He spread his arms in a gesture of friendship. Sam didn’t move from his spot near the door. Maybe if he didn’t react at all, Lucifer might get bored and leave.

“Come on, Sam, why are you being so difficult? Is it about your friend Bobby? I’m sorry about that ugly business with the dead rising: it’s foretold, you know. There are certain things that have to be done.”

He didn’t look ashamed as such, but he did at least give some appearance of remorse. Not that Sam believed it for a second. But that also meant that Lucifer didn’t know about Karen, and probably not about Gabriel either. Maybe they were ahead of the game after all?

“Come on, Sam, say something. Tell me where you are, and I’ll make this apocalypse business nice and quick for everyone. It doesn’t have to drag out, you know: timeframes can be moved up. I don’t want to delay any more than I have to.”

“I’m never going to say it,” Sam snapped. “You’ll never get what you want from me.”

Lucifer sighed and gave Sam a pitying look. “Oh, you will. I know you don’t believe it now, but it will happen. There are millennia-worth of prophecies that say you will, and I know you better than you know yourself.”

“You don’t know anything about me!”

Lucifer just shook his head, with a condescending little smile. “One day, you will stop believing these lies you tell yourself.”

Sam reached behind him for the door handle. It turned easily in his hand, and he sat up, gasping for breath in the darkened room he normally shared with Gabriel. He groped out towards the nightstand and found the glass of water Gabriel always left there for him if he forgot himself (i.e. if Gabriel had distracted him too much for him to get it himself). Trembling, he took a long drink, swallowing down the residual fear.

As he expected, he was alone. Gabriel had gone out with Cas to see if they could find Pestilence all the way down in California. It wasn’t any spell or wards, as Lucifer had assumed, that had been keeping Sam’s dreams safe; it had been Gabriel, and now he was so far away. It wasn’t the first time that Gabriel had left Sam alone during the night, not by a long stretch of the imagination, but Gabriel had been looking strained for a while now; to the point that he hadn’t even been reading Sam’s mind for ages, and he used to say that was something he couldn’t help doing. Had keeping Lucifer out taken that much of a toll on Gabriel? And was the distance really a factor, or was it something else? Something awful?

He fumbled for his phone and hit Gabriel’s speed dial. It rang a couple of times before the line clicked on.

“Sambo? Everything okay?”

Sam gave a sigh of relief and ran a hand through his limp hair. “Fine.” His voice sounded shaky, even to him, so he amended it to: “Now, anyway.”

“What happened, kiddo? I left you dead to the world. Not that that means too much these days.”

“Lucifer,” Sam said. “He’s taken up dreamwalking again.”

“Aw, crap.”

“He said something had been keeping me hidden,” Sam said, needing to explain why he was ringing Gabriel, not wanting to seem like he couldn’t handle one little visit from Lucifer. “He thought it was warding, but I figured it was you and… I thought maybe… maybe something had happened to you.”

“Nah, I’m okay,” Gabriel assured him, his voice all soft round the edges. “Just spreading myself a bit thin, that’s all. Pestilence is one slippery SOB, and I was focussing too much on him. I kind of thought the whole pocket dimension thing would keep him out, especially with it being hidden by all those wards at Bobby’s place.” He sighed. “Maybe some warding would help. Me and Cas’ll put our heads together and see if we can work something out.”

“Yeah. Thanks. But… I’m glad you’re okay.”

“You want me to come back?”

Sam wanted to say yes, he really did, but Gabriel was doing something important down in California, and Lucifer had never visited more than once in a night before anyway.

“No. You and Cas do your thing. We’ll catch up tomorrow.”

“You sure, Sammy? I know my brother – he’s not much fun to be around.”

Sam dropped his head onto his knees. “Yeah, I’m sure. You be all important. I’ll see you in the morning, right?”

“You want me to wake you up the same way I sent you to sleep?”

A huff of laughter escaped him. “Not gonna complain if you do.”

“Excellent. I’ll be there in a few hours, cupcake, and make it a really good morning for you.”

“Promises promises,” Sam teased, as if Gabriel never delivered on his promises.

“Scout’s honour,” Gabriel shot back, and Sam could hear the smile in his voice. At least this kind of interaction was normal for them, a more even footing than panicked phone calls at two a.m.

“Like you were ever a Scout. Now stop procrastinating and get back to work.”

“Aye sir!”

Sam laughed and hit the ‘end call’ button. There was something about Gabriel that always seemed to put him at ease, and he had absolutely no idea what it was. It defied all logic, because really he should be on edge all the time around someone who had spent almost a year torturing him in that pocket universe back in Florida, but Sam understood Gabriel a lot better now he knew about his background; understood the choices he had made, and why he had done what he did to Sam two years ago.

He puttered about the apartment’s kitchen for a little while and made himself a cup of chamomile tea. The familiarity of the brewing process calmed him almost as much as the tea itself, and between that and the phone call, Sam soon found himself sleepy again and ready to try sleeping.

Back in the bedroom, his hand found the golden feather Gabriel had left on his pillow, as he did every time he left – almost entirely without fail – and clutched it tightly. It, like the others, smelled the way Gabriel smelled; kind of sweet, but mostly like a pine forest; all rich and fresh and clean and Christmassy. Just inhaling that scent was enough to push any lingering doubts about Lucifer to the back of his mind and allow him to relax into sleep once again. And this time, it was dreamless.

 

.oOo.

 

Gabriel woke Sam bright and far too early in the morning, but exactly as he had promised. He draped himself over Sam’s chest, tracing lazy patterns with his fingers as they basked in the afterglow. It wasn’t until Gabriel started nudging him to move his lazy ass or miss out on the breakfast that Gabriel was making that Sam remembered why he had woken up alone in the middle of the night (or, honestly, that he had even woken up at all).

“How did it go with Pestilence?”

Gabriel rolled over, sliding down onto the bed with a sigh. “Not great. We can’t get a handle on him. His movements are too erratic, and it wouldn’t be difficult for him to keep a lid on his power if he wanted to stay low key. Cas thinks we could do with a bit of good old human intuition to help us catch him.”

Sam could feel the smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You mean, you need our help?”

“Yes,” Gabriel growled, like it pained him to admit it. “We’re… not all that good at thinking outside the box.”

Sam planted a kiss on the crease between his eyebrows. “I know. World Weekly News. Plus, I met Uriel.”

Gabriel snorted, the frown softening. “Yeah, he was never one for breaking moulds. Breaking everything else, yes, but jeez, if ever you wanted an example of angel programming at its worst, he’s probably the best one. What happened to him?”

“Cas found out he was pro-apocalypse,” Sam said. “We thought he was an anomaly at first, but it became pretty obvious after, well, you know, that he knew the party line. He was killing angels who didn’t agree. I think Anna killed him in the end to protect Cas.”

Gabriel went quiet and still, his eyes blank and staring and his wings drooped alarmingly. Sam gathered him up into his arms and wrapped his long body around Gabriel’s, not knowing what else to do. If nothing else, it wasn’t as if Gabriel couldn’t break free if the contact wasn’t appreciated.

“I hate this,” Gabriel said eventually. “I hate that my brothers are killing each other. I hate that they are choosing this just because our Father said it’s what should happen.”

“I know,” Sam said, stroking his fingers through Gabriel’s hair. “I can’t imagine.”

“Yeah, I think of all people, you can. I set it up so you killed Dean at least three times. And the first time, you didn’t even know about the Groundhog Day thing.”

Any other time, Sam would probably be angry at Gabriel for bringing it up, but he sounded so sad and desperate that he couldn’t possibly be mad.

“And you’re stuck in the middle of all this, with outside-the-box Luci taking strolls through your sub-conscious.”

Sam pressed a kiss to the top of his golden head. “I’ll deal. We’ll deal. We’ll get Pestilence, and trap Lucifer and your brothers can go back to hating humanity in peace.”

“It’s not going to be that easy.”

“Pretend. For me.”

There was a groan. “Fine: Luci will step willingly back into his prison cell, because he’s not a complete dickbag after all, and Michael definitely won’t be pissed that we’ve put a stop to it all and just leave us alone instead of exacting revenge. We’ll have it done by tomorrow afternoon and it’ll be sunshine and daisies forevermore afterwards.”

Sam grinned despite himself. “That’s better. Come on now, you promised breakfast. You wanted to give Karen a break, remember?”

 

.oOo.

 

It wasn’t that simple, not least because Dean insisted on driving to California, because that was how they normally did things, and he wasn’t feeling this flying thing and he just wanted this to be something they did under their own steam for once. But Southern California was a whole day’s drive away, not counting stops for food and refuelling, which probably meant both the drive and their search for Pestilence was going to be fuelled by caffeine. Sam sometimes thought it was a miracle he had survived his teenage years, given how early in life he had discovered the ‘triple red eye’.

After Gabriel’s epic breakfast, with waffles and bacon and even a fruit salad, yoghurt and granola all appearing on the menu and the cooked items all being actually cooked in front of Sam’s disbelieving eyes, they loaded up the car, kissed Karen goodbye, and promised to meet the angels at the other end.

As they were pulling away, Sam saw Gabriel whisper something in Karen’s ear. He would have to remember to ask when he saw Gabriel later on what it was. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Gabriel as such, nor Karen’s common sense, but if Gabriel was planning something, he might not necessarily have thought the consequences through, and Karen could still be a little star-struck occasionally, the way people probably should be by Gabriel.

Maybe he was imagining it, he considered as Dean turned onto the road and they set out on their long, arduous journey. Maybe Gabriel was just being properly grateful that Karen had cooked for them, provided for them, for over a week without any complaint whatsoever. Maybe it had been a kiss on the cheek before taking off himself.

Sam took some time to read the standard English synopsis of the CDC’s information that Gabriel had produced at some point when Sam wasn’t looking. There was a lot of it, but real hard, helpful facts were pretty sparse: reports of the epidemiology that still made little sense to Sam; analyses of the viral strain showing it to be fairly mild as swine flu went; a greater push for vaccine from companies like Pfizer and Niveus. There were no real indications of where Pestilence would go next. Maybe he wouldn’t even stick in the same area – make it look like someone carried the virus onto a plane or something. That could incite panic, which Pestilence might see as being interesting, either just because War and Famine had enjoyed the mayhem they caused, or because of how the virus would either spread or be hindered by whatever form the panic took. That sounded like something a being like Pestilence might get his jollies off to.

Wading through it all killed a couple of hours’ driving time, by which point Dean was pulling over in a Gas n Sip in Atkinson, Nebraska, for coffee and provisions, because Karen meant well with her carefully wrapped pies and healthy snacks, but Dean wasn’t touching the granola bars and pie wasn’t easy to eat while driving, and he needed some junk food, dammit.

On the next leg, Sam puzzled over Pestilence’s movements, faithfully transcribed onto a more portable map by Bobby earlier that morning. He thought that maybe looking at it anew, with fresh, rested eyes might yield something, some little scrap of a clue that might help them out, but nothing leapt out at him. If he really stretched, the last four towns – Borrego Springs, El Centro, Desert Shores and Ocotillo – made up four points of a pentagram, but… no, actually, that was too much of a coincidence not to flag up as important, even if none of the other towns fit any kind of pattern anyone, including the angels, could see.

He tapped at the map a couple of times, considering, before pulling out his phone and hitting Gabriel’s speed dial.

“Well howdy, sugar buns,” Gabriel greeted him cheerfully. “You fed up with Deano already? Want me to come and rescue you from two days of ‘the open road’?”

“It’s been useful, actually,” Sam said. “Call it a hunch, but you and Cas might want to check out Niland, at the south-east end of the Salton Sea.”

Dean was staring at him, and Sam knew that an explanation would be demanded the instant he was off the phone, but as far as Sam was concerned, it would have to wait until they stopped to eat.

“Okay,” Gabriel said readily, “we’ll swing by, take a look. You sure you don’t want me to swing by and abduct you first?”

Sam gave a soft snort of laughter. “Yeah, I’m good here right now.”

“You’re better at FBI than Cas,” Gabriel grumbled. “He’s too weird.”

“CDC might be a better cover,” Sam said with a grin. “He’s probably not too weird for them. They’re all research doctors.”

Gabriel chortled. “Point. I’ll let you know…”

The line dropped out. God, the mid-west sucked for cell reception. He put the phone back into his pocket and prayed quickly, telling Gabriel to text him if they turned up anything in Niland. Then he had to face the questioning ire of Dean.

“Might not be anything,” he said without needing to be asked. Dean’s eyes were doing plenty of demanding without needing anything vocalised . “I’ll show you later.”

Dean shrugged, which was as close to acceptance as Sam was going to get right now. It wasn’t dropped, but Dean was willing to wait. He normally was, because he wasn’t an idiot and he knew some things needed showing instead of telling, and his eyes needed to be on the road right now. Also, they were so far away from California that Dean being in the dark for a couple of hours wasn’t going to make a difference to any immediate plans.

 

.oOo.

 

They broke for at lunch in a little diner North Platte, Nebraska and over a frankly excellent chicken salad Sam showed Dean the potential pattern he had spotted. Dean agreed that checking out Niland seemed like a good idea, but he also agreed that it seemed very suspect that only the last four town hit formed any kind of recognisable pattern. Sam mused that maybe the original patterns had been something Enochian that they couldn’t see, but Dean pointed out that Cas would have probably seen that straight off.

“Is it me,” Dean said slowly, after staring at the map again, “or does it seem like Pestilence is doing this pattern thing right now to mess with us? All those towns have been hit since you ganked Famine.”

Sam nodded: the same thought had occurred to him about a hundred miles back.

“Have you just sent Cas and Gabriel into a trap?”

Sam scowled. “Probably. I sent Gabriel a text to warn him a while back. I got this back.”

He pulled up their text conversation and passed the phone over to Dean.

Be careful – it’s probably a trap.

Lol, of course it is. But I think I’ve set enough of those up to recognise one by now.

Surprised you recognised it ;)

…funny guy.

You love it.

Seriously, be careful.

Yes, Mom

Dean scowled at the screen, and Sam knew exactly what the issue was there: they tended to try and ignore their more fractious history with Gabriel in favour of the camaraderie they had now, and there Gabriel was, rubbing it in. He clicked a few keys quickly and hit send before passing the phone back to Sam, with a new message reading:

Springfield, dude

Sam shook his head and put the phone on the table. He speared the last few leaves on his plate, chewed, and washed them down with the last of the coffee. Dean also finished off his last few fries, and turned his attention to folding up the map. By the time they were done, there was a reply from Gabriel:

:D Tell Deano he’s trailing by 2 points there. But if he wants to see the girls again, all he needs to do is ask.

Sam decided not to share that one, mostly because Dean would mutter under his breath for the next fifty miles, sulk for another fifty, then blare Led Zep at full volume until Sam’s ears bled, and he would prefer to be sane by the end of the trip, thank you. He tucked the phone away and pulled some cash out of his wallet. Ever since Gabriel had come onto the scene, they had been inexplicably better off than they should be so Sam could afford to leave their lovely waitress a generous tip before they headed back to the road.

Sam took over the driving for the next leg and Dean climbed into the back seat, clearly intending to nap. This was a great tactic for when they had large distances to travel, so they could rest up and trade driving shifts whenever they needed to, but it wasn’t the best bed in the world for anyone over about three feet tall, let alone grown men north of six foot. Nevertheless, Dean balled a blanket under his head, draped his jacket over his eyes to block out the light and settled in. Within half an hour of getting back onto the I-80, Sam could hear soft snoring that indicated Dean was asleep.

Grabbing sleep whenever and wherever one could was apparently a Marine trick that their dad had managed to pass on to them. Either that or they had just picked it up out of necessity, because their lifestyle demanded it of them. Sam couldn’t do it as well as Dean – now even less so because of the ever-present threat of having his sleep invaded by the devil – but he managed okay. It looked like today was one of those days where he would have to manage, because Dean never went for a nap if he wasn’t planning on driving through. It kind of made sense because the sooner they got Pestilence, the sooner the whole Apocalypse thing would be over and done with, and they could get back to hunting normal things like vampires and werewolves. Sam never thought he would see the day where he considered them boring, but compared to angels and demons they were pretty small fry. And it would be bliss to deal with them instead of the complex crap they were up to their eyeballs in right now.

The car ate up the miles, the landscapes starting to blur together as he switched onto the I-76, following the road signs for Denver. One good thing about the way they travelled was they had a pretty good idea of where they were anywhere in the country, and an idea of which direction to head in to get to where they were going. Both of them were perfectly capable of driving for long stretches without needing to consult the map, or cajole shotgun into navigating. That only came in when they were almost at their destination and a ‘general direction’ was no longer good enough.

By the time they stopped to eat again, Dean had woken up, broken his ‘driver picks the music’ rule twice, tried to go over the CDC stuff (Sam watched in the mirror as Dean’s eyes glazed over and he dropped off again), grumbled about the Denver traffic even though he wasn’t driving, and mocked Sam for filling up Karen’s thermos with coffee during a brief stop (not that he was fooling Sam – he was grateful and drank the coffee appreciatively).

This time, there was little talking; they ate a mediocre meal of meatloaf and potatoes and Sam used the WiFi to check up and see if there were any fresh news stories from South California about swine flu. As it turned out, there weren’t. Dean rang Cas for an update, of which there wasn’t really one – they had searched Niland as thoroughly as they dared without drawing any attention to themselves from any other supernatural beings, and found nothing.

“But there were days between the others,” Dean pointed out. Apparently Cas agreed with him, because they said they would keep looking, and would meet them there the following day.

After a huge slice of cherry pie that Dean thoroughly enjoyed, Sam settled himself back into the passenger seat, glad he wasn’t the one driving directly into the sunset. His mind drifted as the I-70 made its way through the mountains and he found himself, as he often did these days, thinking of Gabriel. This was the first time they had really been apart for more than a few hours in weeks: Sam had thought at first it would be nice to a bit of time where it was just him and Dean and the road – and it was – but he found he was missing Gabriel more than he thought he would.

His thoughts must have drifted over into prayer territory because he was snapped suddenly to awareness by his phone, a message from Gabriel.

I miss you too, you big sap.

He smiled as he read it. There had been a time, not all that long ago, where their text conversations would have looked one-sided to anyone who snooped, because Sam’s half was done entirely by prayer; back when their relationship was just figuring itself out, when Gabriel had taken off to give Sam space and make sure he really wanted it – whatever ‘it’ was, because they still hadn’t really defined ‘it’ – and wasn’t being influenced by any angel mojo. But those conversations had tended to be teasing, or even outright sexual, and Sam didn’t want to risk that with Dean sat beside him in the car.

Sam let the car lull him to sleep somewhere around the Utah border, and he found himself suddenly being hugged by an amorous archangel, glorious golden wings folding around him just as tightly as the arms.

“Why didn’t you say where you’ve stopped?” he demanded, his face smooshed into Sam’s chest. “We would have flown to meet you.”

“We… uh…”

Gabriel went all stiff in his arms, the wings snapping back to their normal position. Sam was the most disappointed about that, because he loved being enveloped by Gabriel’s wings and they were more tangible in a dreamwalk than in the real world.

“Do not tell me you’re not stopping.”

“Um.”

“Fuck that!” Gabriel declared. “Sleep is good for you. Horizontal sleep in a proper bed, not scrunched up in that car. Wake up and tell me where you are.”

Sam hated the startling awakening that always seemed to happen after a dreamwalk – unlike most dreams, it was particularly jarring and probably because it was real. Dean gave him a wary look, but before anything could be said, they passed a sign saying they were just entering Green River. Sam quickly prayed to Gabriel and they had a pair of angels in the back seat before Dean knew what was going on. He gave a particularly unmanly yelp and glared at the rear view.

“Warn a guy,” he snapped.

“Sam knew,” Cas pointed out. Because it was clearly Sam’s fault for not warning Dean and not the angels’ for arriving before he had a chance to say anything.

“Find a motel,” Gabriel said firmly. “No way are you two driving through the night.”

“What the…? Why the hell not?”

“Your body requires sleep, Dean,” Cas said bluntly. “And, moreover, I intend to fuck you tonight.”

Dean choked and turned red. Sam grinned openly: Cas was wonderful for his brother, mostly because he was so upfront about what he expected from their relationship. Turning to the angels, Sam found that Gabriel was grinning too, his phantom wings fluffed up in amusement, and Cas had some expression that Sam thought might be mischievous. Maybe Cas wasn’t above bribing Dean to make him do things that were good for him, and that was even better, in Sam’s opinion. Dean did very little to look after himself, including driving through the night, and he would have been complaining about this development had Cas not said exactly what he had just said. This time, though, Dean turned the car into the first motel he saw without complaint and they quickly grabbed their gear and got themselves two rooms for the night.

 

.oOo.

 

Sam pushed Gabriel’s jacket from his shoulders, dropping it to the floor.

“So, that kind of night, huh?” Gabriel chuckled. “I’m game.”

“Shut up,” Sam growled. He pulled Gabriel close and kissed him, hard and bruising and relentless. Being cooped up in the car all day was frustrating, and he had a lot of pent-up energy, especially after thinking about the naughty prayers he used to send to Gabriel.

Gabriel just melted into him, yielding to the kiss with a tiny sigh, as if he had been looking forward to this all day. Maybe he had. Maybe this was exactly what they needed right now. It was definitely what Sam needed: closeness to Gabriel was exactly what he wanted right now. That feeling when Gabriel’s glow reached out to him just seemed to touch something inside him and make him feel just so safe and loved.

He lifted Gabriel easily, legs wrapping around his hips, and carried him over to the bed. He had this whole plan of just laying Gabriel down, all smooth and sexy, but he stumbled over the curled-up edge of the rug, putting him off balance, and Gabriel was heavier than Ruby was, and the devious little shit didn’t let go of Sam’s neck and pulled him right down onto the bed. They landed heavily, all the cool gone and with Gabriel cackling madly underneath him. Sam bristled with indignation briefly, but Gabriel’s cheer was infectious and it only took a second or so for his head to drop onto Gabriel’s shoulder with a huff of laughter.

“Ass.”

“Always,” Gabriel pressed a kiss to the corner of his jaw, and Sam felt the wings come up and over him, and suddenly he was torn between just lying there, all secure in his phantom feathery cocoon, and the hopeful chubbiness of his dick that was trapped against Gabriel’s equally promising groin. Gabriel kind of made his mind up for Sam when he rocked his hips up, pressing deliciously along the line of Sam’s cock, and drawing a groan from him. The next time, Sam moved with him, and the next, and the next; rutting together like horny teenagers. But that wasn’t what Sam wanted, just chasing the orgasm for the sake of it; that wasn’t the point of this. He slid his hands under Gabriel’s shirt, finally touching warm, delicious skin. A moment later, they were both naked and Sam’s cock was sliding up against Gabriel’s, skin on hot skin, leaving Sam gasping at the sudden change in sensation.

“Lube,” he said breathlessly, and the bottle appeared in Gabriel’s hand. Sam took it, slicked up his fingers and reached back, sliding them in and stretching himself as quickly as he dared. Gabriel’s eyes went wide and dark when he realised what Sam was doing.

“Oh, Sammy,” he breathed. “You have no idea how glorious you look right now.”

“I’ll look even better in a minute,” Sam panted as he shuffled himself up the bed, so that he was crouched over Gabriel’s waist, and grabbed the lube again. He slathered his hand and grabbed Gabriel’s dick, spreading the slippery stuff all over and pulling a strangled moan from Gabriel. He held Gabriel’s cock steady as he positioned himself over it and slowly sank onto it. His hasty prep had not quite been enough, and it burned as he took Gabriel inside him. As much as Sam would normally like that, he was going to need to be able to sit for hours at a time tomorrow so he started off slow, giving his body a chance to adjust rather than setting off at full tilt. 

“Yeah,” Gabriel said, his voice rough and cracking as Sam worked a few different angles to try and find that perfect one to nail his prostate. “Yeah, that does look amazing. Look at you, all gorgeous and flushed and messed up for me, riding me like a pro. Gotta say, I like this side of you.”

Sam gave a sharp intake of breath in response as he found his perfect position, and his cock dribbled a spurt of precome onto Gabriel’s belly. He rested a hand on Gabriel’s leg to maintain his position and picked up the pace. He could feel his own precome splattering both him and Gabriel as he bounced. Gabriel’s hands came up to rest on his butt at about the same time as he started to glow; that gorgeous pure white luminescence just starting to flow over his skin like a shimmering mist. The tingling of grace across his own skin, wherever he touched Gabriel, was a sensation his body still didn’t know quite what to do with. Sam could feel his breath starting to come in pants as he spiralled towards completion, could feel Gabriel begin to thrust upwards to meet him as his legs tired of keeping up the punishing rhythm.

Sam shuddered as orgasm washed over him, come spurting in stripes, seemingly everywhere, from his bouncing cock. Gabriel flipped him onto his back effortlessly and continued the assault on his prostate, and Sam wasn’t sure if the white at the edges of his vision was a pleasure overload, or if it was Gabriel’s grace extending out as hot come filled him.

 

.oOo.

 

They grabbed breakfast from a McDonald’s drive-thru early in the morning and headed back out on the road before seven. The angels headed back to California, and promised to meet them there later on. As they headed into Manti-La Sal National Forest, Sam realised that Dean was shifting surreptitiously in his seat, trying to find a comfortable spot. It looked like Cas had made good on his promise last night, and Sam knew that feeling well; in fact, he loved that feeling, but it wasn’t fun when facing a twelve hour drive. Some vindictive part of Sam thought it served Dean right for being so adamant about driving to California when they could have flown there in a second, with the car in tow. He thought about offering to drive, but he wasn’t sure how Dean would take that. Dean was funny about things that might, to some, make him seem less than masculine. Sam thought it was bullshit, personally; he had never once questioned his masculinity in time he had been with Gabriel. So he held his tongue until they stopped ‘for coffee’ only an hour later. As Dean headed into the Gas n Sip, walking gingerly, Sam located the lidocaine cream he kept in his duffel for just such emergencies. He threw it unceremoniously at Dean as the store clerk was pouring the coffee. Dean caught it easily, training kicking in, and looked at the label with a frown. Sam jerked his head in the direction of the bathrooms and Dean headed off.

They drank their coffees at the side of the car, slouching against it. Sam had insisted that he wanted to take in the scenery before they hit the desert, but they both knew it was to save Dean’s ass while the lidocaine was taking effect. And by the end of the cup, Dean was looking much more like himself and was in the driver’s seat, bitching at Sam to hurry his sorry ass up so they could get back on the road. Sam smiled to himself as he crushed his cup and tossed it into the trash.

It was an easier journey to their next stop, with Dean cheerfully singing along to his cassettes. Sam continued to look for other leads, but he was convinced that they were on the right track now, and it was just a matter of time before they tracked Pestilence down in Niland and put the brakes on this whole Apocalypse thing once and for all.

“Why all these days between outbreaks?” he mused aloud eventually, as they turned south on the I-15, looking at the dates. This had actually been going since the day Lucifer broke free back in April but, as just about everyone had noted, it was so low-key it hadn’t caught anyone’s attention as being supernatural, and no-one had thought much of it except the CDC. It was the time scale that was bothering Sam: why not just a day or so? What was Pestilence doing in the days (and in a couple of cases, a week or more) where he wasn’t causing minor mayhem?

Dean shrugged, eyes still on the road. “That’s bugging me: this guy’s slippery. He’s been under the radar for ages; could have been up to anything. Ask him when we find him: the other two loved showing off.”

“Death didn’t,” Sam pointed out. “He was… he helped us.”

“Yeah, and Gabriel said Death was weird.”

That was true, actually, which was odd in itself because Death had been almost normal compared to the other two, who had revelled gleefully in their games. Maybe that was why Gabriel considered Death weird. Although, by staying so far under the radar, it was looking like Pestilence was more like Death than his other two brothers, which didn’t inspire confidence in Sam that this would be an easy job. He should have known when Death made it too easy for them.

“You’re overthinking it, man,” Dean said, breaking into his thoughts. “We’ll nail the sucker, just like War and Famine, and be eating Karen’s cooking again before we know it. Then we can work out what else he’s been up to, but I’d put a hundred on his spells breaking, just like War’s and Famine’s, as soon as we gank the sucker.”

Dean was probably right – the Horsemen’s magic, whatever it was, had worn off immediately after they were defeated. Whatever else Pestilence was up to would blow over. Probably. But… it wasn’t just influence with him, was it? He was unleashing actual diseases that scientists were able to diagnose and test. This was a real thing. What if he had a massive stockpile of Croatoan virus sitting somewhere, just ready to go?

They were over the border into Nevada by the time they stopped to eat. The diner in Mesquite was cosy and the waitress flirted with them both. A few months back, Dean would have flirted back without hesitation; now he barely even noticed her attention. His attention was on his phone, texting Cas and telling him they were okay, where they were, and other stuff Sam probably didn’t want to know about. But the food was pretty good – not a patch on Karen’s, but they had definitely been in worse diners – and the coffee considerably better than most, to the point Sam went back out to the car and got her to fill the thermos for the last leg of their trip.

Sam offered to drive, and Dean surprised him by saying yes. Maybe that was because he was uncomfortable again, but he didn't seem as bad as before.

Sam hated desert diving; it was all boring, flat and arid landscapes with the only features being the occasional cactus or a sign marking the miles left to Las Vegas. It gave him too long to dwell on whatever Pestilence was up to, which wasn't really a good thing. 

For his part, Dean dozed off just past Vegas. That was deeply annoying that Dean could do that - that Dean's mind was so calm that he could turn off so easily. So Sam called Cas, because Cas would take his concerns seriously.

"I agree that it seems likely that Pestilence will have been doing other things, but do you believe that we will not find him here in Niland?"

"No," Sam said quickly. "I definitely think he'll show sometime soon. I just want to know what he's up to in the meantime. I mean, it can't be good."

"Hey! You talking to Cas and not me?"

There were sounds of a scuffle in the background, like Cas was trying to grab the phone back from Gabriel. And it wasn't as if Gabriel sounded genuinely hurt.

"You keep saying he's the strategist," Sam said, trying his best to be annoyed with Gabriel for interrupting them and making a nuisance of himself, but he couldn't. Just the sound of Gabriel's voice reminded him of how warm and loved he had felt last night, and it brought a smile to his face.

"Why? What are you strategising?" Gabriel was grinning, Sam could tell. "Are you asking for pointers in a prank war against Dean, because you're asking the wrong angel."

"Gabriel, you know very well we were discussing Pestilence." Cas was muffled, but his pissy tone came through perfectly.

"Jeez, Cas, have I taught you nothing? Humour, bro. Lightens the mood, boosts morale."

"It will not turn out to be so humorous if Sam is correct," Cas pointed out. "Please return my phone and allow us to conclude our conversation. If Sam wishes to speak with you afterwards, I am sure he is capable of calling you."

"Touchy. Fine. Sammy, be quick about being boring with Cas, will you? I'm bored, Pestilence ain't here, and Cas scowls every time I so much as look at the paedo teacher who needs his dick removing and his hard drive sending to the local cops."

"Can't you keep Cas happy and just send the hard drive?" Sam suggested, and wondered when exactly he had stopped being bothered by Gabriel's more Pagan tendencies. He knew he probably should be worried about Gabriel’s desire to maim someone, but couldn’t find it within himself to summon up the appropriate disdain.

"Fiiiiiine," Gabriel said with a long-suffering sigh. "Here, talk to Cas while I arrange for someone to find this creep's laptop. I'll call you when he's in jail."

"Thank you. Hello Sam."

"Hey Cas."

There was the sound of displaced air in the background, suggesting that Gabriel was off playing at being Loki for a while.

"Would you suggest that we look elsewhere for Pestilence in the meantime?"

"Nah. I'm sure it can wait." Gabriel had kind of put his mind at rest a little - if he had time to be off handing a creep his just desserts, then they had time to sort this mess out. "What are you up to down there?"

"We have been posing as the CDC, as you suggested, checking the local hospital and clinics, making sure they are prepared should the disease strike the town."

"How's that going?"

"The doctors seem remarkably surprised that we are being so proactive," Cas said dryly. "I get the feeling that your previous government was not particularly proficient in prophylaxis"

Sam choked and worked his head around that before snorting. "Not that word, Cas: that doesn't mean that any more."

"The doctors have used it in exactly that context," Cas replied, sounding confused.

"Doctors, maybe," Sam allowed, grinning now, "but Joe Regulars only know that it means contraception."

"Oh. I see. Should we continue? Gabriel is supplying them with antiviral drugs. The doctors seem pleased."

"Yeah, I'm sure they are. Yeah, go right ahead. It pays to be prepared, especially if Pestilence is expecting us to be waiting for him - the flu strain might not be as mild this time."

"That is the conclusion we reached too," Cas said. "Gabriel would rather have provided a vaccine, but he feared questions would be asked about its provenance."

"Yeah, they would." Sam sighed: he wished that Gabriel could have done what he wanted, but he knew that the antivirals were a better choice right now. "Thanks for this - it's so much more than we could have done on our own."

"I am glad to help, Sam, but I will be relieved when you arrive - you and Dean are better at human interaction than I am. Gabriel keeps telling people I have transferred recently from the labs"

Sam laughed, then felt bad and tried to smother it. It was a brilliant excuse, really, and would only ever work for CDC pretexts. He remembered Dean telling him about the disaster that had been Cas' first outing as an FBI agent, which made a lot of sense given Cas' lack of understanding of basic human interaction. At least Cas was aware of his limitations, and it was as well that Dean didn't care.

"Sounds like there'll be nothing to do except get swine flu by the time we get there," he replied, still chuckling.

"Gabriel would not allow that."

"No, but it would be a great clue that Pestilence was in town."

“It is still not a preferable solution.”

“Agreed. Anyway, we’ll see you in a few hours: we’re just outside Needles, near the Arizona border, so we’re about three hours away.”

“I look forward to it. Gabriel has found some rooms that he deems to be satisfactory in Brawley, twenty miles south of Niland. I will text you the address.”

“Great. We’ll go straight there, since it’ll be too late to work by the time we arrive. See you soon.”

“Farewell, Sam.”

The line cut off, but that was okay – Sam had gotten a ‘goodbye’, which was more than Cas used to do. He negotiated the split in the road between the I-40 and Highway 95, by which time Cas had managed get the address to him. Sam pulled over so that he could look it up on the maps application on his phone, and actually found a better route to take than the one they had planned – rather than having to zig-zag to get to the ambitiously named Salton Sea, he could turn south off the I-10 almost as soon as he joined it, and take CA-78 directly to Brawley. It would probably shave half an hour off the journey time.

The road was deserted and he decided to take a leak before heading to Brawley. Dean picked that moment to stir, and open the door to see what was going on.

“Sam? Dude, seriously?”

“Don’t tell me you don’t have to pee,” Sam said without turning. “We’ve been on the road three hours.”

Dean said nothing, and got out when Sam got back in. Sam smiled smugly as Dean relieved himself before coming round to Sam’s door. Sam sighed and slid over to where Dean had been sleeping, relinquishing the driver’s seat to Dean once more. He shared the update on their destination with Dean once they were back on the move. He thought it might make Dean antsy, to be losing a whole extra day rather than pretending to be federal agents at weird times of the night and drawing attention to themselves by keeping such peculiar hours. It wasn’t like they were pretexting as FBI on this one, after all. But Dean actually seemed eager to reach the motel or, more likely, eager to see Cas again. With Dean’s generally heavy foot spurred on further by his enthusiasm they made it to Brawley in just over two hours and Sam navigated them to the motel using his phone’s map function.

It was impressive, the hotel Gabriel had booked them into. No crummy motel this time; they had a proper hotel with stars and room service and little chocolates on the pillows (or, Gabriel assured him there had been chocolates on the pillows earlier in the day). Sam resisted the urge to sink onto the hugely inviting (and just huge) bed with its fluffy white comforter, but didn’t resist Gabriel’s embrace. Even with the interlude last night, Sam had spent two solid days on the road, and it was surprisingly tiring and all he really wanted to do was curl up with Gabriel against his back, holding him tightly, but it was too early and he was kind of hungry and he could have a nap for an hour or so, couldn’t he?

“Of course you can,” Gabriel said gently. “Come on, kid: you’re no good to me sleepy. We’ve got a reservation at seven, so there’s loads of time for you to rest.”

Sam nodded sleepily and let Gabriel pull him towards the bed. Gabriel turned him and sat him down, undressed him with sure, gentle hands, then guided him under the covers. Within moments, he was cocooned in fluffy down and smooth cotton and had a toasty angel pressing a line of warmth along his back.

 

.oOo.

 

Sam felt refreshed when Gabriel woke him an hour later, and he dressed in his FBI slacks (which he was sure had been el-cheapo Target pants when he had last seen them) and his favourite blue shirt, the one he was pretty sure he had left behind in Sioux Falls (or wherever Gabriel’s interdimensional apartment actually was). It was definitely worth it for the whistle of approval he got from Gabriel.

They joined Dean and Cas in the lobby- Dean scrubbed up in a dark green shirt, and Cas had ditched the tie for a vest that really emphasised his slim figure. Sam suspected Gabriel’s hand in both outfits.

Gabriel flew them all to the restaurant, which turned out to be a pretty nice steakhouse. Dean looked impressed as he took in the menu. Cas looked baffled, probably because he had never had such a staggering array of sides and sauces to smother on his meat, and that was more than likely down to his propensity to eat takeout burgers as his sole source of protein when they were away from Bobby’s place. Somewhat predictably he copied Dean when it came to placing their orders, but less predictably, Dean chose something he thought Cas would enjoy rather than Sam knew he would usually pick for himself: Dean would never pick to have peppercorn sauce, or mushrooms. Gabriel, on the other hand, went completely to town and ordered every side on the menu – far more than they would probably manage – just so that Cas would be able to try a little of everything.

Even Dean ended up trying some of the vegetables that arrived, and was really bad at hiding just how much he enjoyed the creamed cabbage (which Cas also enjoyed, judging by the sheer volume of it he consumed). Sam had ordered a salad with his steak, but ended up indulging in some of the fries and potatoes Gabriel had ordered too, as well as stealing some of the cabbage while Cas wasn’t looking.

Sam wasn’t the least bit surprised to find that the place also did great desserts, given that Gabriel had organised it. In capitulation, he ordered a piece of strawberry cheesecake that turned out to be delicious. Cas and Dean both had apple pie, and Gabriel ordered the sickliest looking piece of chocolate cake Sam had ever seen. He looked completely sinful eating it, sliding each morsel from the fork slowly, licking crumbs with a flick of pink tongue that was sending Sam’s pulse racing and his pants were starting to feel tight. He just hoped his loose button-down would cover anything when he stood up. And there was a gleam in Gabriel’s eyes, a certain fluffing of his feathers that told Sam the angel knew damn well what he was doing, and was enjoying every second of torturing Sam.

He was so very, very glad when they decided not to hang around after the meal, just to head back to their respective rooms and get ‘a good night’s sleep’ before embarking on locating Pestilence the next day. 

Gabriel smirked openly the second they were back at the hotel, landing in their room in the blink of an eye. “Sammy, Sammy, Sammy. Anyone would think you liked what you saw back there.”

Gabriel had him pinned to the wall, a hand firmly cupping his balls, palm pressed against his dick. He let out a little moan.

“Look at you, big boy: all hard for me before I even touched you. I bet you were imagining yourself in the fork’s place earlier, weren’t you?”

Sam gulped. “Yes,” he admitted shakily.

“Talk to me, Sammy: what do you want from me?”

What _didn’t_ he want? Gabriel’s show had been so graphic back at the restaurant that pretty much anything would do right now. But… that clever tongue…

“Suck me. Please?”

Gabriel looked amused at the effort that took. “Your wish is my command,” he purred.

 

.oOo.

 

The breakfast laid on by the hotel was kind of disappointing, if truth be told: Sam found himself unexpectedly homesick for Karen’s cooking. It was funny how much someone could become part of your life in such a short time, but that was exactly what had happened with Karen. He was keen to get back to Sioux Falls sooner rather than later. Of course, getting back to Bobby’s would mean that Pestilence was no longer a threat to anyone, which could be any day now. There had been no more than two weeks between each outbreak, and the one in Ocotillo had been four days ago now, so it really was soon. Pestilence would have to show within the next week or so, if Sam’s theory was right. Of course, within a week, Dean would be climbing the walls and insisting that Sam was wrong, so they potentially had that to look forward to too.

They got on the road early and hit the clinics of Niland, ‘just checking in’. From what Sam could see, Gabriel had flirted with everyone in the two days he had been here, and was now getting either amused smiles or outright giggling from the receptionists as he leaned on their counters. Cas looked as awkward as Sam had expected, but he made it work for him; he looked exasperated with Gabriel, like he disapproved of his overly friendly ways, even as he was coolly analysing about a thousand probabilities from the facts and figures they had. He had a folio file. Gabriel was that into this, Cas had a folio file he could make notes in. Sam and Dean got introduced too, as new faces they might see around the area. The clinics here were relaxed and friendly, and clearly happy that the CDC were there. Sam suspected that it might be a different story in somewhere like Ocotillo.

Dean floated the suggestion that maybe they should widen their search to the surrounding towns, so they ended up heading thirty minutes up to the north end of the Salton Sea, to a town appropriately named North Shore. On the way, they stopped at the side of the road, where it ran closest to the lake, for a magically-produced lunch. As they finished up, Sam’s phone rang. He pulled it out of his pocket and glanced at the display before picking up.

“Bobby? You okay?”

“It’s Karen. I think I might have something for you.”

“About Pestilence?” He would take any lead they could get on the slippery little bastard.

“No.” She sounded a little hesitant. “No, your spell so you can see your angel’s wings. I’m… I’m texting you something. I can do that while I’m talking to you, can’t I?”

Sam gave a little chuckle. “Yeah, you can. You can switch me onto speaker, or I’ll hang on. You okay doing that?”

The line gained that tell-tale echo that told Sam it was now on speaker, so Karen must have figured that out at least. “Yes, I think so. At least the key layout hasn’t changed in the last thirty years.”

Sam could feel himself smiling fondly. “You just missed multi-tap texting, and predictive text. That just used the ten number keys. Bobby replaced his phone a few weeks back.”

He could hear her tapping away at Bobby’s cell. “So much has changed since I died. I mean, where even are you?”

“We’re, uh, sitting at the side of Highway 111, just outside of Bertram, grabbing a bite.” He rubbed at the back of his neck somewhat sheepishly as he realised how that must sound to Karen, who hadn’t even seen a cordless phone before unceremoniously finding herself in 2010. “Yeah, I guess cell technology must seem pretty amazing. We’ve kind of got used to it. You managing okay?”

“Oh, sure.” She sounded a little frustrated, which made Sam think that maybe she wasn’t doing as well as she made out. “I’m getting the hang of it. See?”

His phone chirped, and he switched it to speaker while he read the message. He swallowed a couple of times, his mouth suddenly dry, and held it out to Gabriel.

“Well blow me down and call me Larry!” Gabriel exclaimed, his wings doing funny things behind his back; kind of half-fluffed up, but twitching between tight and nervous and loose and excited. “Karen, honey, where did you find this?”

“She didn’t,” Bobby growled, butting in, and Sam couldn’t work out whether he was annoyed or proud. “She pieced it together from the notes you left about the original spell, and the blood thing, and a few other spells.”

Okay, mostly proud then, with maybe a hint of worry.

“Why? It look legit to you?”

“It looks great! You’ve got a flair for this, sugar pie. What do you make of it, Cassie? You’re better at spellwork than me: I just reshape reality.”

He handed the phone over and Cas squinted at the screen. “Yes,” he said slowly. “I believe this would work. Does it have to be injected under the skin, or will simple absorption suffice?”

There was some hesitation at the other end. “It would probably be stronger and more permanent if it was injected,” Karen said finally, “but even if it was painted on in a carrier – like a henna tattoo – it would still work for a few weeks, and be strong enough for Sam to see solid images. Dean too, if you and he want to.”

Sam looked over to Dean: his expression had that frozen quality that Sam knew from long experience meant he really, really wanted it, but was too afraid to ask. Probably because he didn’t feel like he deserved it, no matter what Cas said on the matter, no matter how consistently or enthusiastically Cas showed Dean that he was loved no matter what he thought about himself.

Cas was giving Dean a truly exasperated look; the one he had practically trademarked by now, the ‘you are an idiot but I adore you anyway’ look. Cas would do the spell for Dean, whether Dean objected or not.

“Karen, honey, do you want us to wait until we get back before we do this? See if your baby works?”

There was a soft laugh at the other end of the phone. “Oh, heck no; I wouldn’t have gone to the trouble of sending it if I wanted that. And it’s not like I can see for myself if it works, now, can I? You boys go right ahead.”

Sam adored Karen even more for that. Not for the first time in the last couple of weeks, he wondered what kind of person Bobby had been before she died, before he had found out the truth about their world. And he wondered what kind of hunter Karen was going to become, because if she was writing her own spells there was only really two ways for her to go, and ‘witch’ was not acceptable. Sam thought she might be a bit like him – more ‘shades of grey’ than ‘black and white’, simply because she had so much kindness in her heart she was never going to be able to kill something just because it was a vampire or a kitsune, or like that Jesse kid: Jesse and Lenore and Amy were all good people, just not quite human and that wasn’t their fault.

“We’ll let you know, then,” Gabriel said with a broad smile that touched his eyes. “Bobby, you look after that treasure you have there.”

“Yeah, I will.” Bobby’s usual gruffness was tempered by a soft note in his voice. Maybe it was a bit of that young man Bobby had been shining through, or maybe it was just that old man Bobby still couldn’t quite believe his luck. Whatever it was, it was nice to hear.

“Thanks, Karen,” Sam said to the phone.

“Yes, thank you.” Cas was still so formal, but there was something soft in his face that Sam wished Karen could see.

Dean blinked. “Uh, yeah. Thanks.”

There was another laugh. “Just let me know what happens. Good luck.”

The phone went dark in Castiel’s hand, leaving them in thoughtful quiet for a few moments.

“Well,” Gabriel said, cheerfully and briskly breaking their silence, “looks like we’ve got some other things to find. Cas, you and Dean want to take the spell ingredients?”

Cas looked immediately uncomfortable. “I would find it easier on my own.”

It looked like it pained him to admit that, and Sam wondered what was going on with Cas all of a sudden: he was seeming less and less sure of his abilities, looking to Gabriel for reassurance a lot more. Now he really thought about it, Cas had been splitting book stacks back when they were clearing the desk at Bobby’s when he should have been able to lift the whole lot in one go, and Cas was noticeably slower than Gabriel to arrive lately. Okay, so theoretically, Gabriel was supposed to be the fastest angel anyway, but there had never really been a difference that Sam could see in their flight speed. Now, though… And he didn’t want to take a passenger any more? There was only one conclusion Sam could reach – that Cas was getting to the end of his grace. And Sam should feel bad for Cas, because it must be terrifying for him, but it meant that he and Dean would get to share their lives together whereas Gabriel was going to be left alone when Sam died, and that was a thought that Sam never really liked having.

On the other hand, Dean looked alarmed and wounded. He didn’t even like flying, but to have Cas refuse to take him rather than offering was odd. Surely Dean would reach the same conclusion as Sam? He wasn’t stupid, after all. Cas leaned over and kissed Dean before disappearing.

Dean’s shoulders slumped, looking resigned. “He’s getting worse, isn’t he?”

Gabriel nodded, looking at the rug; the faint, sleek outlines of his wings were pulled tightly against his back. “Yeah. I’m doing what I can, but…”

“How long?”

Gabriel shrugged. “Hard to say. Weeks, maybe, if he doesn’t do anything stupid, if he keeps eating and sleeping.” He did look up at that point, his eyes dark, conflicted and looking right at Dean. “I’m counting on you to make sure he looks after that vessel of his, Dean.”

Dean gave a solemn nod. Gabriel normally irritated the hell out of Dean, but on this they seemed to be in complete understanding. Given that it was about Cas’ continued health, that was hardly a surprise.

 

.oOo.

 

North Shore was just down the road from Indio, one of the cities that had already been hit. The doctors there were a little more frazzled, even though they hadn’t had a reported case yet. Sam was almost glad of that, because dealing with stressed people demanded more concentration which prevented Sam from being too distracted by the idea that by tonight he might be able to see Gabriel’s wings properly and permanently instead of the temporary and washed-out vision he got from contact with Gabriel’s blood.

Between them, they got some more of Gabriel’s antivirals for the hospital, just in case they were wrong, just in case the infection spread beyond Indio. The doctors seemed grateful for that at least. Cards and drugs were left behind, and they headed to each town around the northern shore, stopping off at clinics and dropping off more of Gabriel’s magical flu pills, a new crate of which appeared next to him in the back seat every time they stopped.

They hit Brawley last, before heading back to the hotel where Cas was waiting for them with his haul. He was dutifully crushing the lapis lazuli when they walked his and Dean’s room (with his bare hands, which put paid to fears Dean and Gabriel had been expressing earlier), ready to start mixing.

He had pulled the table out from the wall into the middle of the room, where they could all gather round, and on it were laid the spell ingredients: lilies and daisies for purity, Heaven, and love; the lapis lazuli also representing Heaven and Revelation (the angelic kind rather than the prophecies of the Apocalypse), and was apparently a common ingredient in spells designed to manifest the truth (according to Cas); angelica root to add strength to both the spell and to Sam and Dean (Gabriel snorted at it and rolled his eyes, then said it was also supposed to ward off pestilence); holy water and holy oil; crushed henna leaves to act as a carrier, as Karen had suggested; and two empty bowls.

“Karen has suggested that the spell should be personalised,” Cas said. “Dean’s spell should be made with my blood and feather; Sam’s with yours, Gabriel.”

Dean hadn’t actually seen the ingredients list before, and rolled his eyes. “Blood, man? Really? What is it with spells and blood?”

“Power,” Gabriel said, his expression cheerful enough, but Sam could see something dark behind his eyes and in the tightness of his wings. “There’s a lot of power in blood. I’d have thought Sam’s whole demon blood thing would have taught you that. And the Pagans’ blood sacrifices.”

Dean shuddered, and Cas looked hurt. Sam could understand why: it looked like Dean didn’t want this.”

“Dean, we’ve done spells with blood before. The spell last time had Gabriel’s blood in it. We know it works, and it’s safe.”

There was a sigh. “Yeah, I know,” Dean growled. “But… how much would it take? I mean, there was a fuck-ton in the spell last time. I don’t want you hurting yourself.”

Gabriel gave a snort of laughter. “I was planning on throwing it all over you last time,” he said gleefully. “There needed to be a lot, and even then it was only about half a pint. This is going to be a tiny little temporary tattoo. It won’t be any more than you’ve used in your own spells.”

“Okay.” Dean stepped up to the table, right next to Cas, and draped his arm around Cas’ waist. “Let’s do this.”

The first thing they needed to do was to complete their components list – the spell called for the ashes of an angel feather instead of a whole feather like Gabriel had used last time (apparently their power infuses into the spell), except that angel feathers don’t really burn except in holy fire. Sam volunteered to do that, since the fire wouldn’t do the same kind of damage to him as it would to Cas or Gabriel. They set up a tiny dish filled with holy oil, Cas plucked a feather from Gabriel’s right wing (Gabriel cringed and squirmed and was a complete baby about it, but then again, that feather root was a hell of a lot thicker than a hair, and was that a spot of blood on it?), and Sam held the golden plume out over the flame while the angels cringed away until it caught. Once alight, he dropped it into one of the two silver bowls Cas had put out for the spell. They repeated it with one of Cas’ silver feathers (Cas was more stoic through the plucking process), and once the feathers burned out, they ground the ash together with the lapis, the plants, and each angel added a few drops of his blood simply by touching his palm to the side of the bowl. Then the henna and holy water were added to turn it into a paste, which Gabriel then transferred into tiny little bags that apparently were commonly used for piping henna.

“Come on, Sammy; let’s get you inked up, see if this takes.”

He grabbed Sam and they were suddenly in their own room.

“Strip off, kid: I know exactly where this is going.”

Sam reached for the button on his slacks without thinking. As soon as his brain clicked in he paused, with his pants halfway off. “You aren’t painting that stuff on my dick, are you?”

Gabriel grinned. “Nah. Nice thought though: very possessive, very Pagan. I was thinking just here.”

He trailed his fingers across a particularly sensitive spot just inside the valley of Sam’s right hip.

“That means only I get to see it, and it’s right on that spot that makes you squirm.”

Sam chuckled and reclined on the bed, tugging his shirt up to expose the hip Gabriel was intent on tattooing. The henna was surprisingly cold when it went on, and Sam had to try not to squirm; he didn’t want to ruin Gabriel’s handiwork, particularly since he was so steady-handed. After a couple of minutes, the cold faded and it started to get warmer and hotter. Sam grit his teeth; he had endured much worse during his life. When Gabriel placed one final line, the symbol flashed once with a bright white light that looked an awful lot like grace, and the symbol burned like fire, like it was embedding itself into the very core of his being.

“Huh. Didn’t expect that,” Gabriel commented, touching Sam’s skin just to the side of the tattoo reverently. “You okay there, Sambo?”

“Sure,” Sam ground out.

“Sam?” Gabriel sounded concerned now, and there was a cool hand cupping his cheek. “Sammy, open your eyes, cupcake.”

Sam did, blinking rapidly. Gabriel’s worried face hovered about a foot from his own, framed by the most magnificent golden wings; so solid and real-looking that Sam felt he should be able to reach out and touch the sleek, shining feathers. He unclenched a hand from where it had been fisted in the sheets and reached up, over Gabriel’s shoulder, fingers curling back at the very last moment, uncertain, unsure if he was allowed, of how Gabriel would react if they were corporeal enough to touch now, of how disappointed he would be if they still weren’t there.

Gabriel turned his head, leaning into the touch like it had always been meant for his face. His eyes fluttered closed for a brief moment before he spoke.

“Go ahead, kid. I want to know too.”

Slowly, hesitantly, Sam reached out once more. His eyes widened as his fingertips brushed up against the cool, smooth surface of the feathers. Real, tangible feathers.

“Holy crap.”

“Don’t do much of that,” Gabriel replied, grinning like the maniac he was. “Talk to Cas.”

“Smart ass,” Sam said fondly, stroking carefully across the stiff but silken feathers.

“Always. They won’t break, you know.”

“It’s kind of unreal.”

“Well, yeah,” Gabriel pointed out. “They’re not exactly on the same dimension as us. Doesn’t mean they’re not real to me, though.”

“They’re the most real thing about you, Gabriel. That’s why I wanted to do this in the first place.”

He slid his fingers experimentally under a row of feathers and cool silk suddenly became hot and fuzzy, and Gabriel’s eyes fluttered closed. His wing pushed forward, shoving Sam’s hand further under the feathers, into what must be down and that heat that always radiated from Gabriel’s skin like he was a little furnace. But as he stroked carefully along the row (and they were in rows; all the feathers lay neatly in row after row of shining gold perfection), he met not only skin but something less tangible too, with a familiar tingle to it.

“Grace?”

Gabriel snorted. “What else did you expect, Sam?”

He honestly didn’t know how to answer that. He had half-expected the wings to just be like extensions of Gabriel’s vessel; be all human(ish) and touchable and warm like Gabriel was. Gabriel didn’t feel particularly special – different, inhuman – until they were making love. He hadn’t, for some reason, expected to be able to touch Gabriel’s grace so easily. But he should have done, he realised: this was what Cas and Gabriel did all the time, something previously outside of his and Dean’s ability to see. Gabriel had even shown him a shadow of them doing just that, back when they were hunting Famine.

Gabriel flopped himself down on the bed and spread his wing over Sam protectively. “That stuff’s got to stay on your skin as long as possible, so what do you say we order the biggest pizza in the state and put on a movie or three?”

Sam groaned. They had all been so desperate to get the spell done that Sam hadn’t really thought about the logistics of painting a dye like henna onto the skin: of course it would take time to settle and take properly. It wasn’t going into his body like a tattoo did; this was just being absorbed by his skin. At least it wasn’t burning any more.

“Sure,” he agreed readily. “What were you thinking?”

 

.oOo.

 

Gabriel liked Disney movies. Of course he did: they were nice and simple – bad guys were bad, good guys were good, and the bad guys always got what was coming to them. And Sam had to admit that he was actually enjoying the plots and the cheery songs too. He wasn’t so sure about the cheerful, helpful genie – that seemed to be misleading kids whereas it would be good to teach them that the djinn were to be avoided at all costs – but he really did like the twist in the plot of Beauty and the Beast – that not everything was black and white; that the Beast could change, given the chance, and be kind and gentle, whereas the town’s hero was actually twisted and evil inside.

“Dean never finds out we watched these,” Sam commented as Belle and the Beast waltzed around the ballroom.

“Are you kidding? One: I value his pranking potential too much to lose what little respect he has for me; two: Cas is making him watch the Star Wars movies.”

“Dean loves Star Wars.”

“Phantom Menace?”

Sam laughed. Because no, Dean hated the ‘travesty’ that was The Phantom Menace. And Attack of the Clones. And Revenge of the Sith only had a few scenes that redeemed it.

“Cas insists that he wants to see the story from the beginning, not halfway through.”

“Oh, poor Dean.”

“Wait until Cas starts banging on about religious parallels, and Obi-Wan representing Michael, and the little turd being Lucifer.”

“Isn’t Anakin more like Jesus?”

“Seriously? The life you live and that’s what you’re getting? He’s more like that cambion kid you met. Bible-Jesus never went bad like Anakin.”

“Jesse didn’t go bad either. He’s a good kid.”

Gabriel shrugged. “We’ll see. He’s doing okay so far, but who knows what’ll happen when he’s all grown up and marrying Natalie Portman.”

Sam side-eyed him. “I’d say that’s doubtful, but with him? Maybe he could marry Natalie Portman. You could, if you wanted.”

Gabriel looked wounded, but his covert feathers (the little sleek ones at the tops of his wings) were all fluffed up in amusement. “What are you saying, Sammy? Do you not want me? Or do you want to be Natalie Portman?”

Sam sat up and looked down at the reclined archangel. “Hell no. You’re not pulling that trick again.”

 

.oOo.

 

Gabriel improved on the buffet breakfast vastly, and by the time Dean and Cas wandered in, Sam was munching happily through some lovely lean bacon and fluffy eggs that weren’t so overdone they were solidified and had their water seeping pathetically from them. Sam was pleasantly surprised to see that he could also see Cas’ wings clearly, although something told him he probably wouldn’t be able to - and definitely shouldn’t - touch them. Dean had said a long time ago they were silver, and the feather Sam had burned yesterday certainly confirmed that, but that one feather hadn’t done justice to the full effect: where Gabriel’s wings shone like sunlight, Cas’ were more like moonlight, cool and gentle and absolutely suited him and his vessel down to the ground. They weren’t in as good condition as Gabriel’s, probably because of the issue of him Falling, but each feather was groomed immaculately. In that respect, they were actually looking better than Gabriel’s, and Sam wondered if Dean had something to do with that: he was better at looking after people than Sam was; better at just doing things because they needed doing. Sam hadn’t even realised that Gabriel was looking scruffy until he had Cas as a comparison.

The plan for the day had been to hit all the towns along the south shore of the lake after checking in at Niland, but they never got any further than Niland itself. When they reached the clinic, Gabriel tensed immediately and his wings pulled in so tightly they actually disappeared into his vessel.

“That’s weird,” Dean commented, eyeing Gabriel’s suddenly bare back. “I mean, that can’t be comfortable.”

“Of course it’s not, genius,” Gabriel snapped.

“You can bicker later,” Cas pointed out testily. “We have a job to do here.”

Ten words from Castiel, and they were both focussed back on the presence that was making Cas’ feathers stand on end like he had been hit by lightning. His hand was twitching like he wanted to have his blade in it, but he hadn’t drawn it just yet. That was probably a good thing since it was likely there would be civilians at the clinic, even this early in the morning. Going in with guns blazing (so to speak) was the best way to cause a panic.

Stepping in, the receptionist, Suzie, caught their eyes almost right away.

“Hey, looks like you were right,” she said, keeping her voice discrete. “We might have our first case: he’s in with the doc right now. Just as well you got us all that Tamiflu, right?”

Sam glanced at the others, and could see they were all on the same wavelength as him: he would put money on the ‘first case’ – Niland’s patient zero – being Pestilence himself.

“You’ve been taking it, right, Suze?” Gabriel asked, keeping his voice light but there was a definite undertone of concern there.

Suzie shrugged. “I know you said to, but I didn’t want to waste it in case we didn’t see it for weeks.”

Gabriel sighed and wagged a finger at her. “You’re going to start now though, aren’t you?”

She gave him a shy, chastised little smile. “Course. I’m guessing you want to see the patient? He’s in with Roger, in room two.”

Dean was off down the corridor before anyone else could stop him. He burst into the consulting room without even knocking, startling the doctor.

“What the…?”

“Oh, don’t worry,” the patient, who appeared to be a man in his fifties but Sam had absolutely no doubt was anything but. Even his skin was crawling in the man’s presence; he felt dirty, and that he would never be clean again no matter how much he scrubbed himself in the shower. Sam couldn’t imagine how he felt to the angels.

“I’ve been expecting these gentlemen,” Pestilence purred. “Sam and Dean Winchester. You took your time tracking me down. And you’ve brought some friends too.”

Sam’s skin was burning. Sweat beaded from every pore. He coughed and blood splashed across his palm, shockingly bright against pale, clammy skin. At Sam’s side, Dean groaned: he looked as bad as Sam felt. Maybe they both needed a good lie down and some of Dean’s tomato and rice soup? That… that sounded good. The world span and Sam sat down heavily on the floor. Somewhere, the doctor slumped over his desk.

He quirked his head at Cas and Gabriel, as if trying to work them out. “A Pagan and an angel Fallen so far anything I could do would pale in comparison? I mean…”

He was on his feet and, through blurry eyes, Sam could see him stroking a hand down Castiel’s face.

“…you’re barely even an angel any more.”

Cas doubled over in pain, coughing wetly. Gabriel moved to help, but he wasn’t as quick as usual, hampered by his disguise: without the full power of his grace, he seemed to be weakening under Pestilence’s influence – his vessel looked pale and sweaty just like the rest of them. Fortunately for them, Cas was still more than fast enough: he grabbed Pestilence as he fell, pulling his hand to the floor.

“I’m angel enough for this,” Cas spat as he forced his angel blade through the bones in Pestilence’s hand, severing multiple fingers including the all-important ring.

Pestilence howled in pain as Cas scrabbled for the ring, his fingers slipping in the blood. Gabriel grabbed the Horseman and as his vision cleared up, Sam could see him grinning that feral smile of the Pagan god. It was so odd to see it again, jarring with the wings that were unfurling at his back once more.

“That’s my family you’re messing with,” Gabriel hissed, the air crackling around him.

“Gabriel?”

“That’s my name, kid.” Gabriel sounded livid. “And I think you’ve killed quite enough people.”

Pestilence cackled, suddenly and unexpectedly. “Oh, not nearly enough yet. You might have stopped me here, but…”

With a snap of Gabriel’s fingers, Pestilence exploded into a red splatter that made Cas flinch away visibly. The resulting mess on the walls reminded Sam vividly of the aftermath they had discovered at Chuck’s place right after Lucifer had risen, right after Raphael had smote Cas. No wonder Cas had reacted to feeling (Sam assumed) the same power being used, even if it was directed at someone else.

“Awesome, Cas!” Dean crowed, stumbling to his feet. “That was completely awesome.”

Cas melted into Dean’s hug without a word, clung to him tightly, his wings coming round to envelop Dean. Dean frowned at Sam momentarily over Cas’ shoulders at the uncommon display of affection; the uncharacteristic need for support. Sam glanced around the room at Gabriel’s new decorating job, then deliberately back to Cas. Thankfully, Dean seemed to get the message.

Gabriel did too, his expression darkening as he realised suddenly just exactly how Castiel had died all those months ago. He knew that it had happened, but obviously not the specifics. He gave a very deliberate and controlled wave of his hand, and suddenly the mess was gone: the consulting room looked just as it had when they had first entered, only a couple of minutes beforehand, except for Doctor Bartlett – Roger – who was still unconscious over his desk.

“I’m keeping him that way for now,” Gabriel said tersely. “Fewer memories to alter later on. I hate messing with memories: reminds me of the Mystery Spot. Come on, let’s get going. I think we’re done here.”

 

.oOo.

 

It seemed almost anticlimactic in a way: it had been over so quickly that Sam had barely even processed they had succeeded. They had all four rings. It took seeing them all together on the table Cas had been mixing their henna spells on only last night for it to start to sink in; Dean producing War’s, Famine’s, and Death’s from the inside pocket of his jacket, and Cas placing Pestilence’s alongside them.

Gabriel rearranged them swiftly: War’s plain gold one in the middle and the other three surrounding it with their stones facing inwards. One nudge of Death’s, and the outer three gravitated towards War’s as if drawn together by magnets, locking together in a triangular configuration.

“Holy crap,” Dean breathed.

Sam looked up from the rings. Because this was only half the battle, really, and he suspected it was the easier half.

“So, what now? How do we get Lucifer back through the door?”


End file.
